


Suitor

by deleiterious



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Minor Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Minor Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deleiterious/pseuds/deleiterious
Summary: Bernadetta von Varley searches for a knight to call her own.A study of an anxious and battle-hardened young woman's return home. A slow-burn Raphael x Bernadetta.Minor spoilers for post-game.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault & Bernadetta von Varley, Maya Kirsten & Raphael Kirsten, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Raphael Kirsten/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 72
Kudos: 69





	1. Employer

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. You must be wondering, what in the world? This rare-pair? Yes, listen. Bernadetta deserves the entire world. I relate to her very personally, and the only ending that had her growing out of her shell in a way I was so immensely proud of, was her ending with Raphael. Call me a sucker. I truly think he's good for her. This story's rating will go up eventually, but only at the very end, if you understand my meaning. This will be a slow-Bern, the slowest of burns.
> 
> There will be mentions of other pairs I'm fond of, in the background mostly, but it will not detract from the Bernadetta-heavy focus. This will be a multi-chaptered fic, probably 5 or so chapters.

Bernadetta gets the idea from Petra. She's quite taken with the idea as soon as she hears it: her own guardian knight. 

  
At first, she's not sure who she can ask to take on such a role at House Varley, but a few people come to mind, mostly those that have no noble house of their own to inherit after the war. Many of her allies are leaving to go their separate ways soon, so she knows she must act quickly.

  
Bernadetta approaches Caspar first. She finds him wrapping his smarting knuckles after a bruising brawl at the training grounds. 

  
"Hey, Bernadetta! What brings you to the training grounds? I never see you here!" he greets her exuberantly. 

  
She's not used to the sheer energy that Caspar emits and feels like crawling into ground to hide from it. But he'd make a very capable knight, that she's sure of. 

  
"Oh," she forces out something like a strangled laugh, "I actually came to...see you. I have a question." Her fingers dig into her shirt. _Just ask, Bernie, you can do it!_ "Would you...would you consider joining House Varley as a knight? You'd get to be the knight in charge!"

  
Caspar laughs, surprised, a hand going behind his head to give it a scratch. "Wow, you'd really trust me with a job like that?" 

  
Bernadetta nods fervently. "Yes, of course, I've seen you in battle and you're strong. I know you could do a good job, and there's a stipend of course. A generous one!"

  
Caspar looks like he's really considering it, but then shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Bernadetta. I can't accept that offer. Don't get me wrong; I think being a knight for you would be amazing! But, ah, I actually wasn't planning to do much more fighting for a little while. With the war behind us, I was actually planning to go do some traveling for a while."

  
Bernadetta nods in understanding. "Like Hilda, you mean?" 

  
Caspar suddenly turns a shade of red that is very unlike him. "Uh, what?" His eyes dart behind her. "Who told you that?"

  
"Hilda said she was going to travel the world, now that she's finally free to do so." Bernadetta remembers the wistful sigh Hilda gave as she revealed her plans. "She said she's really excited to just have fun and let loose for a change." 

  
"Oh, right, yeah, like HIlda," he says, sounding embarrassed. 

  
"Are you two going together?" It's an innocent question, he suddenly looks as if she's taken a hot iron poker to him.

  
"What?" He leaps to his feet, stammering. "It's not like that at all! We're just friends, I think. You know friends that like hanging out and doing stuff." 

  
"Doing...stuff?" Bernadetta repeats, confused.

  
Caspar's redness go to the tips of his ears. "I gotta go!" 

* * *

  
"So, how'd it go, Bern?" drawls Dorothea with a lovely smile. Bernadetta sits beside her at the dining table, feeling defeated.

  
"Caspar said no." Bernadetta bites her lip. "I wish you could be my knight, Dorothea."

  
Dorothea rests her chin on her hand. "I know, Bern. I'm sorry, but I told you knighthood isn't my thing. I'm trying to find a nice man to settle down with. I doubt I can do those stuffy knightly duties while doing that, but I'm still your friend, and I'm here for you." She takes Bernadetta's hand in her own, for reassurance. "Did you ask anyone else? What about Ashe? He's always going on about being a chivalrous knight, isn't he?"

  
Bernadetta sighs. "Yes, I know! He'd be perfect! But he's already agreed to be Petra's knight. She called him her guardian knight."

  
Dorothea's eyebrow arches. "Oh, really?" she says with some relish, a twinkle in her eye.

  
"Yeah, I was thinking maybe Leonie next," she mumbles, biting her lip. Before she can continue, the seat opposite them groans as Raphael and his hulking form takes a seat. His plate is piled up to Bernadetta's eye level.

  
"Hey, Bernadetta! Dorothea, how's it going?"

  
"Oh, hello, Raphael," Dorothea replies pleasantly. "My, that's a lot of food."

  
"All for the muscles," he responds confidently, clapping one hand onto his enormous opposing bicep. "You look down, Bernadetta. What's wrong?"

  
Dorothea suddenly nudges her, winking conspiratorially. Bernadetta responds with a wide-eyed look and a shrug, completely in the dark as to her friend's meaning. 

  
"Bern here," Dorothea suppresses an sigh and gently takes her friend's shoulders, "is looking for someone to accept her job offer."

  
Raphael seems to have already made a decent amount of progress on his meal. "Oh, really? I can try to help. What's the job?"

  
"She's looking for a knight who can run House Varley's order of knights. She's the new Countess, you know."

  
"Oh, wow, you are? Congrats!"

  
"Yeah," she admits meekly. "I was hoping I could find someone here before I return home to run the estate." 

  
"You could do it, couldn't you, Raphael?" Dorothea interjects. "I mean, you're clearly the strongest one of any of us here."

  
Raphael looks surprised. "Me?"

  
"Him?" Bernadetta squeaks.

  
"Well, I did always want to be a knight, before all the fighting started," he admits. "If you really need someone, I'd be happy to take the job. That's what I've been training for ever since the Academy." 

  
"Oh, that's perfect!" Dorothea claps her hands together. "See, Bern? We've found your knight in shining armor." With a wink, Dorothea leaves them to sort out the details.

* * *

  
Raphael departs for the Varley estate before she does. While taken back by it, she's glad he accepted the job. As one of the most formidable leading generals during the war, Raphael has ample experience commanding troops. He volunteers to head out first to survey the territory's defenses, to ensure she will be secure when she returns home.

  
A week later, with the route secured, Bernadetta arrives. It's the first time she's been back since her father's funeral, and she has to close her eyes and seal her lips to refrain from screaming or hiding. She knows he's gone, as sad as she is to lose him, she's also relieved. No more scornful tirades; no more torturous, abusive etiquette lessons. 

  
"Welcome back, Bernadetta!" booms a voice as soon as she plants a foot on the ground. 

  
Raphael looks like he wants to give her a hug -- he's very much the hugging type -- but refrains, and gestures to a guard to lead her horse to the stables. 

  
"Raphael," she breathes with relief, happy to see a familiar face. _This was a good idea._ She couldn't imagine being back in this place without a friend.

  
The estate's servants filter out, bowing deeply to her, before they begin to bring her luggage into the house. She recognizes many of them, in particular her nanny, Alfea, who happens to be the same person who saved her all those years ago by spiriting her away to the Academy.

  
"Welcome home, Countess von Varley," Alfea says, with a curtsy. Her dark hair is graying at the temple, and face is lined with more wrinkles than she remembers, but her eyes are just as kind and warm as the last time she saw them.

  
"Oh, Alfie," she leaps into a hug, "I missed you so much!" She buries her face deep into her old nanny's neck. "Will you please call me 'Bernie', just like when I was little?" she whispers.

  
"Oh, of course, Bernie," Alfea responds sweetly, gently brushing her hair. "Come inside; your mother has left you some letters and paperwork." 

  
Bernadetta nods obediently, trailing behind Alfea as they go inside. She casts a backward glance at Raphael, who appears to be giving new orders to the posted guards.

  
"That handsome fellow has done a fine job here," Alfea says. "You appointed a fine knight."

  
Bernadetta turns back to her, blinking like a deer caught in a trap. "Raphael?" She wouldn't have called him handsome, per se. He doesn't have the same elegant qualities common to noble men, but he's kind and strong. _Extremely buff. Terrifying large._ He seems like the perfect kind of person to protect her from threats.

  
Bernadetta spends the rest of her day sorting through estate paperwork, and reading through her mother's letters. After the death of her father, her mother couldn't bear to be in the house anymore. She has taken up residence in their summer manor, to grieve, to recuperate, to avoid the terrors of this place. Bernadetta reads through domestic reports of her territory, her residence's employees, and the grounds defenses. Raphael does not have particularly nice hand-writing, but the report itself is thorough and inspires confidence that her borders will be respected. 

  
Bernadetta stretches as she reaches the last sheaf of papers. Outside, it's already dark, save for the lamps that drape light across the long stretch of dirt road that lead out of the estate. She peers out of the office window, nose pressed to the glass. She recognizes Raphael strolling around the perimeter, speaking with another guard. 

  
"He's still up too, huh?" she murmurs. She casts a glance at the papers, but the ache in her back and hips begs her not to sit anymore. She throws a shawl on and hurries down the stairs.

  
"Countess von Varley, is there something I can do for you?" replies one of her butlers, dusting the parlor. 

  
"I'm just going outside for a stroll," she manages. 

  
He reclines his head deeply. "Understood, Countess."

  
She steps outside, her boots crunching on white gravel. She doesn't spot him from her place at the door. She tightens the shawl around her shoulders, deciding to stroll by herself, just to stretch her legs. Bernadetta brushes her dark hair over to one shoulder. It's quite a bit longer now, at Dorothea's insistence. Ever since they'd befriended each other, Dorothea has been giving her advice on her wardrobe, hairstyle, and every possible feminine thing she could think of. It's dizzying to take it all in. She has to admit her new hairstyle, it's kind of cute. 

  
She bites her lip, suddenly remembering the contents of her mother's latest letter. After the official announcement that she was taking on her father's title, suitors have started to trickle out of the woodwork. Her mother expects her to be a diligent heiress and properly consider their suits. She expects they will begin to call on her, perhaps, as early as next week.

  
Lost in thought, she doesn't notice the figure approaching until it's too late. 

  
"Evening, Bernadetta, what are you doing out here?" Raphael asks, an axe strapped to his back.

  
"Oh, hello, Raphael. I'm just taking a stroll." 

  
He nods. "Yeah, it's a beautiful night." 

  
There's a uncomfortable pause as they regard each other. Finally, Bernadetta says, "Ah, would you like to join me?"

  
He laughs, a deep, rolling belly laugh. "No need to force yourself on my account. I'm being paid to protect you, remember?"

  
She averts her eyes. She's still not great with people, although she's much improved since her Academy days. Sometimes, people don't even notice how odd she is. But Raphael knows her well. "Actually, I'd...like some company. If you don't mind, that is."

  
He tilts his head. "Well, in that case, I'd love to join you." He makes a motion at another guard stationed in this stretch of the estate, and they nod. He offers her his arm. Bernadetta hesitates, but ends up taking it. He's a lot taller than her, so she feels a little awkward, having to bend one of her arms upwards. Raphael radiates heat, quickly soothing the cold skin on her arms. She decides she'll leave her arm there.

  
"I...I want to thank you for doing this," she pipes up, feeling herself blush.

  
"Oh, don't even mention it! When I told my little sister, she was overjoyed that I was accepted as a knight at such a reputable house. You also pay your knights very well, Bernadetta. And I get to lead!" He seems happy to mention his family. 

  
It occurs to her now that he might not have gotten the chance to see them since she hired him so quickly after the war. "Oh, have you been able to visit them?"

  
Raphael shakes his head. "Unfortunately, no, not yet." Seeing the look on her face, he grins. "Hey, it's not your fault! This opportunity was too good to pass up! I'm planning to on my next vacation. And my sister, she actually says she might have some trading routes that go up this way, so maybe she'll swing by. If that's okay with you?"

  
"Yes, I'd love to meet your sister!" she exclaims, then claps a hand over her mouth, flustered. "I mean, I just...you talk about her a lot. She seems so sweet. I would love to meet her."

  
"She'll really like you."

  
"Really?" Bernadetta blushes, hoping the blanket of night can hide it.

  
"Yeah, who _wouldn't_?"

  
She remembers those words long after she tells him goodnight.

  
As she makes her way up the stairs, Alfea appears at the top. "Did you have a nice walk with your young man?" 

  
"He's not my--it's not like that!" she yelps, wrapping the shawl over her face to hide. 

  
Alfea smiles patiently. "Let's get you ready for bed, Bernie."

* * *

  
Bernadetta does not fall asleep easily in this old house. She requests that the servants set up her new room in an old guest chamber in the opposite wing, so she could avoid the tangle of memories associated with her old room, and her parent's rooms. These quarters are quite a lot smaller, and do not boast the gorgeous view of the nearby mountains that her old ones do, but she prefers its current view. She looks down into the empty glade behind the estate, where posted targets are used by her order of knights for archery training. 

  
She sits in bed, watching the glade and thinking about her old life on the road and at Garreg Mach during the war. She tucks her chin into her folded arms, and squeezes her eyes closed; she misses her friends terribly. Eventually, the sun rises through her east-facing window, waking her from a fitful slumber. 

  
Bernadetta rolls over in bed, the back of her neck aching. She rubs it as her one gray eye peeks open at the bright, rosy light spilling into the room. She blearily closes it again with a sigh, stuffing one of her frilly, embroidered pillows into her face. A noise outside her window keeps her from falling back asleep.

  
It sounds like someone is out there. A moment later, she hears a muted thud, and it's loud enough to fully rouse her from bed. Shuffling to the window, she peers out, stifling a yawn. Her eyes focus just as an axe embeds itself to the hilt into one of the archery targets across the field. 

  
A gasp escapes her mouth as another follows shortly after it, landing a hair's breadth from the first one; they're both paired together at bullseye. She unlatches the window, leaning out into the fresh morning air. 

  
"Oh, oops, sorry, Bernadetta! I didn't realize you were on this side of the house!" calls Raphael, waving up at her with another short axe resting against his shoulder. "Just getting in some training."

  
She rubs her eyes, wondering if she's imagining things. Raphael is in a simple tunic and pants, his muscles frankly threatening to burst from the simple spun linen, throwing axes like arrows at her archery targets. _At dawn._

  
"I'll just get some laps in instead. Sorry to wake you!" 

  
He quickly crosses the glade, effortlessly pulling the axes out, and retreats out of view. Bernadetta hangs out there with her mouth open for some time before she crawls back into bed.

* * *

  
A few weeks pass without much incident. At her insistence, Raphael has resumed dawn training by her window, but waits until after she's up and about to throw axes. Usually, she hears grunts and heavy breathing as he weight trains or goes through sparring forms. She gets surprisingly used to the sound in the mornings. 

  
Bernadetta spends a lot of her time indoors, holed up in her office suite. She's up to her eyeballs in legal paperwork, and there is a constant inbound flow of missives from every corner of the country from nobles and commoners alike welcoming her to the role. Some of them mention her heroics on the battlefield, which she never thought much about.

  
A letter, faintly perfumed and sealed with pink ribbon, draws her attention. It's from Dorothea. Bernadetta tears the letter open with glee, eagerly reading the update from her friend.

  
_Bern,_

  
_I miss you every day. Manuela and I are back with the MIttelfrank Opera Company, and I've been accepted again as their lead songstress. The troupe is quite a lot smaller now than it was before the war, but I have high hopes we'll sort that out before long. A lot of ex-generals seem to be taking a liking to me, so I've been going out for tea often. We'll have to see if any of them are actually serious._

  
_How's the house? Are you settling in alright? Please write to me as soon as you can._

  
_With love,_

  
_Dorothea_

  
Bernadetta clutches the letter to her heart. Dorothea's words have brightened her day. She begins penning a response right away. Buried in the pile, she finds a letter from Petra as well although it's quite short, only informing her of Petra's safe return to Brigid. Bernadetta writes a letter to her as well.

  
A messenger appears at the door of her office, bowing. "Countess, there is a suitor here to see you."

  
Bernadetta's good mood drains out of the soles of her feet. "Oh," she responds shakily. She wants to sink into the chair. _Why did they have to come so soon?_ "Could you...have them return tomorrow evening?" 

  
The messenger nods. "Of course, Countess."

  
She instructs the kitchen staff to prepare for a proper meal for tomorrow. It goes without saying that her favorite chef will also be simmering a soothing bowl of simple chicken and ginger to help ease her nausea during the event. 

  
The next day, she wanders aimlessly around the courtyards until she finds herself at the archery range. Her fingers twitch; she misses the fighting in some ways. 

  
"Hey, Bernadetta!" She barely reacts to the booming voice, having become so familiar with it at this point.

  
"Oh, hi, Raphael."

  
"What brings you here?"

  
"I just miss...shooting, I guess," she replies.

  
"Well, you can always use this range, you know! I make the schedule for the knights, so I can make so that it's all yours when you need it." 

  
"Really?" She spins on her heel to look at him, excitement in the tremble of her lips. "I'd love that!"

  
He grins. "No sweat, Bernadetta! I'll come by to talk to you after my rounds today." 

  
She catches him by the hem of his shirt. "Actually," her cheeks turning red, "you can call me 'Bernie,' if you want to..."

  
To her surprise, he grasps her small hands in both of his huge, calloused ones and shakes them. "In that case, it's nice to meet you, Bernie! I think I like this nickname better. It's a lot more casual." Bernadetta feels her entire body jostling as Raphael handles her. He's so ridiculously strong, it's unbelievable. He releases her and then starts to wave. "Alright, I got to get back to work--"

  
"Wait," she blurts, "um, Raphael, do you...know who's stationed near the manor tonight? Around dinner?"

  
Raphael scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Around dinner? Oh, that's right you have a guest arriving. Yes, I've got our best close-range knights stationed around the manor. Are you worried?" He suddenly looks concerned for her. "I can certainly increase security around the area tonight, but don't worry, we're already on high alert with outsiders coming in to the grounds."

  
Bernadetta isn't actually worried about her safety; she's knows how to drive an arrow into a man about sixty different ways to immediately end him, but she can feel her anxiety driving her up the wall at being forced to be present at dinner with a _potential suitor_. It'll be just that man and her, alone, forced to make small talk. Goddess forbid, he might even talk of matrimony. She wishes someone could be with her, even her mother would be nice. 

  
"Wh-where will you be?" she asks quietly.

  
"Oh, I'm going to be off the grounds tonight. We were going to into town to check out a disturbance--" Raphael trails off, and then places a hand on her shoulder. "You know what? I'll let the other knights take care of that. I'll stay here on the grounds tonight, with you. Would that make you feel better?" Raphael's expression is soft and earnest, filling Bernadetta with relief.

  
"I...yes, please, that would be nice. I'd feel a lot better if you were around."

  
"I'll be there," he promises. 


	2. Gardener

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta fights some doubts.
> 
> Raphael gets an unexpected visitor, who has a bit of advice for him. 
> 
> Slow-burn Raphael x Bernadetta.

Bernadetta barely remembers the first suitor. True to his word, she spies Raphael posted up at the entrance of the manor as her guest arrives. The suitor leaves a huge bouquet of flowers, too big to leave in the parlor, and departs that evening with honeyed words hoping to hear from her soon. Bernadetta would rather eat her own shoes than talk to him again. Her servants wrestle with splitting the massive bouquet into multiple smaller bunches and sprinkle the sign of that man's affections all over the bottom floor, much to her chagrin.

  
"Alfea, couldn't we replace all that with my pitcher plants?"

  
Alfea hums as she adjusts one of the large red roses in the dining room vase. "I'm not sure your pitcher plants would match the style of this house, Bernie."

  
_It's my house_ , she grumbles. Bernadetta exits the floral-scented bottom floor and heads directly to the archery range, which thanks to Raphael, is blessedly empty for the next two hours. She whittles away the time, firing arrow after arrow into the bulls-eye. She runs, leaps, fires backwards, but after an hour it quickly becomes too easy. 

  
_I think I need moving targets._ She retrieves all the arrows from their various targets, and stuffs them back into her favorite quiver. As the sun begins to beat down, she pulls her dark violet hair into a bun to keep it off her warm neck and starts poking around the grounds. 

  
Her feet take her to the training grounds, where a few of her knights are running obstacle-filled laps on their horses. Her eyes immediately find Raphael, his large form half-bent as he wrestles with another one of the knights on a brawling mat. His tunic lays abandoned on the ground beside him.

  
Bernadetta feels her cheeks burn. _Goddess, he's not wearing a shirt. Bernie, don't look! It's not proper!_

  
"Countess!" A few knights notice her immediately and bow. 

  
Raphael pins his opponent with a grunt before he looks up. "Oh, Bernie! What are you doing out here?" With a slap across the back, he releases his opponent, and picks up a towel to wipe down his hands. 

  
To her horror, he approaches her, still completely shirtless. One of the knight's lips twitch as Bernadetta feels her face catch fire. She deliberately keeps her eyes on the ground, watching the tips of her boots. 

  
Raphael's boots appear at the edge of her vision. "Something wrong with the archery range?"

  
"Nothing's wrong," she chokes out. "Am I interrupting?" She can feel the curious stares of her knights watching them. 

  
"Everybody, get back to it! Muscles don't grow themselves," shouts Raphael, clapping and sounding rather stern. A flurry of activity follows, and Bernadetta can feel the eyes leave her.

  
"Nope, we're just doing some training." Raphael seems to remember something. "Oh, forgot my shirt. Sorry, Bernie!" He runs back and slips it on. There's a large tear on the shoulder, which is bound to get bigger if it doesn't get mended soon. "Did something happen while you were shooting?"

  
_How is he so good at that?_ Bernadetta hasn't even said anything about the archery range, but he always knows something's wrong.

  
"Yes, actually, I was wondering if it's possible to have moving targets? I mean, the static targets are fine, but it's nothing like what I'm used to." _Shooting people as they move on the battlefield_ , is left unsaid.

  
"That I can do! I'm sure some of the junior knights will benefit with the extra training on shield-work."

  
"Oh, I didn't want to actually shoot people..."

  
"Trust me, Bernie. It'll work, and I've trained them on how to stay safe. How many people would you be comfortable with?"

  
Bernadetta feels something warm flutter in her chest. Raphael listens to her, really listens. He gets her. "We could start with...two people."

  
"Consider it done!" He smiles so wide that she can't help but return it. He leans closer to her suddenly. "I get how you're feeling. Feels weird to not be in the heat of battle anymore, makes me a little restless to be honest. I'm no archer, but if you ever want to spar with us, you're welcome to."

  
"But...there's so many people," she replies meekly. 

  
"Oh, then it can just be the two of us!" 

  
"I'll think about it," she says. _Private sparring? With Raphael?_ "By the way, do you want me to mend your shirt? There's that hole..."

  
"Oh, this?" He plucks at the gaping tear. "You'd really do that for me?" He looks contrite, a rare look for him. "Don't you have more noble things to do?"

  
"I'm good at mending," Bernadetta insists. "It wouldn't take me long. Whenever you're free, just drop it off to me and I'll get it back to you right away."

  
Raphael immediately pulls it off, giving her an alarmingly up-close view of his spectacular muscles and abs. "Is now a good time?"

* * *

  
Suitors come and go. They all sound the same, use the same flowery language. With the exception of a large, cute stuffed teddy bear, she has her servants dump the suitors' gifts as soon as the gates to the manor close. There are so many after a couple of months, Bernadetta retreats to the archery range any spare moment she can. It's a lot more fulfilling, and reminds her more of real combat, now that she has to expend effort to aim and fire at a pair of knights crossing the glade. Her arms and shoulders start to regain their definition, and when she sees the small, familiar muscles in the mirror of her bedroom, she's pleased.

  
_Maybe...I should try for a little more muscle here._ Bernadetta palms her abs and thighs idly. 

  
"Bernie?" A knock sounds on the door and then Alfea pops her head in. "We've received another messenger from Derdriu. They've requested your presence at the United Fódlan council meeting again." 

  
Bernadetta knows how hard the professor, their new leader, has been working to bring the country together since the end of the war. She knows she has a duty as Countess to be a part of that effort, but was never really that comfortable in old Alliance territory or strangers. How would she get there? And when she got there, there would be all these...new people she'd have to talk to. Just the thought put her in a panic. She would have strongly considered going if Dorothea were going too, but Dorothea tells her via letter she's staunchly against getting dragged back into politics and will decline every invitation. 

  
"Please tell them I haven't changed my mind," she tells Alfea quietly. Alfea nods, though Bernadetta wonders if her old nanny is ashamed of her. 

  
When she feels like this, mired in shame and self-pity, it feels lonely and awful. She knows she could do more if only she were braver. 

  
Bernadetta escapes the manor and paces around in the garden of her estate, trying and failing to fill her art sketchbook with ideas. She can't seem to shake the bad thoughts, and ends up dropping the notebook on a bench and just sitting there, staring at an overgrown trellis. She becomes fixated on it, the vines growing every which way, and wonders if she should try to trim them herself. They're too high up for her, though, and it's getting dark. 

  
Agitated, she stomps back indoors. Tying her hair back, she begins the arduous task of cleaning out her old art room. She spends the rest of the evening dusting, organizing, shelving, and rearranging furniture in the room until things are just perfect. An easel stands proudly next to the window, and she's decorated the space with a few of her favorite plants transferred over from her private quarters. She taps one of the leaves of her pitcher plant affectionately. _Tomorrow, I'll find something to paint! That will make me feel a lot better, I'm sure._

* * *

  
Bernadetta starts with still-lifes of her art room. She's arranged a few colorful gourds on the windowsill and dutifully applies her watercolor. Alfea comes in a few times to prod her about the pile of paperwork building up in her office, and reports a few more meeting requests from high-ranking suitors, but the information flows off her like oil on water. In the back of her mind, Bernadetta knows she's avoiding her responsibilities. She's gotten enough complaints from the people of her territory for not engaging them enough, not going out to visit the farmers or merchant guilds, not doing this or that--

  
The paintbrush snaps in her hand. It's the third one this week. Bernadetta sighs, running a hand over her face. _How am I supposed to do all this alone? I'm not...the right person for this. I'm not good enough. I'll never be...good enough._

  
Bernadetta feels herself starting to shake, a symptom she recognizes from her childhood. She sets down the broken pieces of her painting tool, standing up on shaky legs. _Deep breaths, Bernie. Hold it together._

  
She stumbles out of the art room, tugging at the high collar of her dress. It feels like she's suffocating. She hears one of her servants call out to her but she doesn't understand what they say to her. She hides in the garden, bent over and hands gripping her knees like a vise. Bernadetta concentrates on her breathing, her eyes closed. Eventually, she feels the heinously loud thudding of her heart slow, and exhaustion seeps into her every muscle. 

  
Alfea gives her a look of pity when she returns from the gardens, a cup of calming chamomile tea in her hands. Alfea sets it down by her bedside without a word, gently squeezing Bernadetta's shoulder before she steps out. Bernadetta crawls into bed, and doesn't bother getting out for the rest of the day.

* * *

  
She spends as long as she can in her room the week thereafter, but when Alfea informs her the gourds in her art room have started to rot, Bernadetta gets up. 

  
"I can dispose of them and replace them for you, Bernie," Alfea explains gently. "There's no need to tax yourself."

  
"No, I'll go. I want to," she responds. She puts on a simple smock and mournfully disposes of her gourds in the bin outside.

  
"Been a while, Bernie!" Raphael greets her, dumping what looks to be splinters of wood that used to be a training javelin. 

  
"Yeah, it has," she replies, wondering how exactly Raphael was able to destroy a weapon so thoroughly. 

  
"Have you given any thought to the sparring I mentioned before?" he quips, putting his hands on his hips. 

  
_Oh, I'd almost completely forgotten..._

  
"Forgot, did you?" he laughs. Bernadetta flushes, not sure how he can tell. "Like I said, it can be just the two of us. You seem restless lately. Sometimes, a bone-tiring workout is what you need to relax."

  
"Okay," she finally replies. "I'd like to try that. Maybe it would help."

  
"Great, how early can you get up?" 

  
"Oh, does have to be in the morning?" she groans, unable to help herself.

  
Raphael's eyes sparkle with laughter. "Unless you want an audience, I'd definitely recommend it."

  
Begrudgingly, she agrees to sparring once a week, at the crack of dawn.

* * *

  
When the day arrives, Bernadetta wakes up to the sound of small stones clacking against her window. Cracking an eye open, she realizes it's dawn. 

  
"Psst, Bernie!" Raphael whisper-yells up at her from outside. She jolts up, her hair in complete disarray. 

  
"Oh, no! I'm so late!" She clambers to the window, and cracks it open just a pebble flicks her on the nose. She rubs her smarting face. "Ouch!"

  
"Whoops, sorry, Bernie!"

  
"Sorry, I totally slept in. I'll be right down," she whisper-yells back at him. She quickly pulls on an old training uniform of a form-fitting purple tunic and matching shorts. When she meets him outside, he looks wide awake and eager to begin, which is the exact opposite of how she feels. 

  
He has two wooden poles in his hand. He hands her one as they walk around to the sparring ground. It's mercifully empty. Just the two of them, as promised. "Now, I know you're not really a close combat type, so I figured we can just start with deflecting for now."

  
She rubs the sleep from her eyes, setting the wooden stick down and using it as a bit of a crutch. Raphael rolls his shoulders, twisting his torso side to side to loosen up. He gets into a stance she recognizes from his time in the war. Gingerly, Bernadetta spreads her feet apart and tries to mimic it, her weapon held aloft in both hands. 

  
Raphael breaks into a grin. "Your form needs some work, Bernie. Do you want some help?"

  
"Uh," she bleats, "sure...I'll just follow your lead. I'm not really sure what I'm doing unless I've got my arrows." 

  
He rests his training weapon against the wall, and then steps to her. Bernadetta sucks in a breath. "I'm going to try adjusting your stance. Are you going to be okay if I move you a little bit?" She forces herself to nod, but isn't able to say anything. 

  
Raphael gently guides her wooden, noodly arms, and then his fingers wrap around hers. Her hands suddenly feel like they're on fire. "Firmer grip here," he says. She obediently tightens her grip. He puckers his lips in thought, stepping back to flick his eyes from her head to her toes. Despite her clothes, Bernadetta feels weirdly naked with him watching her like this. 

  
_How does anyone train with Raphael without feeling like this?_

  
Raphael's feet gently guide her own into a tighter stance, and he taps her knees to ease the tension, which has the opposite effect. "Wow, Bernie, you're really tense. You have to loosen up the knees here, or it'll be too hard for you to move around."

  
"Okay," she responds, her voice rising an octave. 

  
Raphael swings his weapon casually. "Alright, Bernie, I'm going to come at you. Try to block my blows. What you'll wanna do is use the stick to keep distance between us."

  
Bernadetta bites her lip hard enough to almost draw blood. _You can do this, Bernie. It's just like being back at the Academy. The professor's always saying we all have to start somewhere, right? This will be just like that._

  
Raphael approaches her slowly, at first, giving her more than enough time to deflect, but instead of using her weapon to keep distance, she automatically backs away. Something changes about Raphael when he fights; he knows exactly what's he doing and instead of having the form of friendly giant, he looks almost predatory with a fierce glint in his golden eyes.

  
At first, Bernadetta can't help but skirt around him, but after a while, it becomes clear that Raphael isn't going to let her continue to dodge him. He uses his weapon expertly, barring her escapes, gently tapping her legs to warn her that he could have swept her legs out from under her or otherwise incapacitated her. Still, old habits die hard and Bernadetta is clumsy about using her weapon to keep him at bay. 

  
"You're quick, Bernie! But you have to use your weapon, too!" Raphael shouts. 

  
"I'm trying," she grits out. Raphael is too strong and fast for her to be doing much, even though she knows he's taking it easy on her. Bernadetta thinks she spots an opening and uses her staff to try to sweep Raphael's leg. Unfortunately, she leans too far forward, stumbling and losing her balance. 

  
Raphael jumps back. Bernadetta mistakes it for space, and focuses on righting herself instead of defending herself. In moments, he closes the distance between them and pins her against the wall of the manor behind them. 

  
"You left me an opening. Good try though, Bernie," grins Raphael. 

  
He's so close that her heaving chest bumps against his between the weapon that separates them. His face is so close, those golden eyes twinkling with victory. A strange feeling bubbles in the pit of her stomach. It's similar to her nerves, but it feels exhilarating, the same feeling she gets when a wyvern takes her for a dive.

  
"Do you yield?" he asks, voice husky as he gazes down at her. 

  
Bernadetta feels her cheeks warm, her eyes darting to the ground out of instinct. Raphael's stance is wide, Bernadetta realizes after a beat, that it's just wide enough for her to roll under. "Not yet!" she yells, throwing her staff with her free arm to the floor. She slips down, feels Raphael stumble forward as she disappears and rolls completely unbecomingly under his legs. Her hands fumble for the staff, and the stands up, pressing the end of it directly behind his skull. One thrust and he would be unconscious. Her chest is heaving with exertion, but when he raises his hands behind his head with a laugh, she laughs too.

  
"You got me! Great job, Bernie," says Raphael. He drops his staff, turning slowly to prevent her from accidentally jabbing him. "I didn't expect that, but I guess it works because you're so small."

  
"I...did it," she whispers in awe. "Wow, I really did it!" She jumps in place, excited. 

  
"That was a good first round. How about we increase the difficulty next time?"

  
"Yeah, I'd like that," she says, nodding. "Actually, you're so much better at this than I could have imagined." 

  
Raphael chuckles, scratching the back of his head. "Aw, well, I've been training since I was a youngster."

  
_Modesty on him? That's so cute._

  
Bernadetta's eyes catch on the overgrown trellis sticking like a sore thumb out of her garden. Raphael's eyes follow hers to it. 

  
"I bet you hate that, huh?" he says with a laugh. 

  
"What?" Her head sharply snaps back to him. 

  
"You've always been particular about your plants. You're not shy about giving those vines a death glare whenever you're out here."

  
"It's not supposed to look that chaotic, but the gardener is on vacation." She scratches her nose. "Birth of his first grandchild."

  
"I can help you take care of it. I got some time since it's still early."

  
Bernadetta's lips produce a tremulous smile. Letting Raphael of all people near her precious plants is a recipe for disaster. She knows his intentions are pure, but knowing him, he'd probably just take an axe and hack the vines until they were stubs. "That's...nice of you to offer," Bernadetta replies slowly. "They just need a little trim. I don't mind waiting a little while--"

  
Raphael slaps his knee and guffaws. "You don't trust me with them, do you?"

  
"What?" she yelps, feeling the uncharacteristic lie form through her teeth. "That's not it at all!" 

  
"What if I just help you reach them, and you can do the clipping?" he suggests, undeterred.

  
Bernadetta's finger taps a restless rhythm against her lips. "That wouldn't be so bad." She stares at the offending vegetation again. It would be one less thing to worry about if she could take care of it today, and she does know where the pruning shears are kept. "Okay, let's do it! You wait here, and I'll be right back!" She hurries to the gardening shed behind the property. It's neatly ordered and the shears are resting in a nice wicker basket next to a pair of gardening gloves. She grabs everything she needs and meets Raphael at the trellis.

  
It's still early enough that barely any people are out on the property. The servants are still asleep and only a few guards are posted at the outermost corners of the estate. Bernadetta sets the basket of supplies down on a bench that sits beneath the vines and then she steps on top of the stone surface. Looking down, she opens her hand for Raphael to hand her the shears, but he just looks at her quizzically.

  
"Is something wrong?" 

  
"Bernie, how are you planning to reach up there?" 

  
Bernie looks up and realizes how much higher she needs to be to actually reach the vines curling like gnarled, overgrown fingernails all over the top of the trellis. She tries getting on her toes, and experimentally swipes her hand only to to miss by more than a foot. 

  
_Oh. I'm far too short for this._

  
"I figured I'd help you by giving you a boost," says Raphael. "C'mon down from there, and we can get this taken care of in no time."

  
Bernadetta hops down just as Raphael bends down in front of her, head tucked into his knees, slapping his shoulders. Bernadetta's eyes flick down to her bare legs, encased in shorts that now feel far too short to be proper. "O-on you?" 

  
"I'm way taller than you, Bernie. C'mon." He gestures to his shoulders. It's not that she doesn't think he'll be able to keep her steady. No, with arms and shoulders like that, Raphael will be just as steady as having her feet firmly planted on the ground.

  
_This is going to be so embarrassing! What if someone sees us? What will people think?_

  
Raphael peers up at her expectantly. If she does it, it'll be humiliating for her. But if she doesn't and has to explain why she won't, it'll be even _more humiliating._ Swallowing back her nerves, Bernadetta obliges and brings her leg over the back of Raphael's shoulders. With half her weight solidly against one side, she hefts her other leg over the shoulder. He grips her thighs with such warm hands, Bernadetta almost shudders. It's a completely strange sensation to have his neck between her thighs, even tickles the insides of her legs a bit, and she gulps as she thinks about all the salacious things Dorothea would say if she could hear her thinking right this instant.

  
Bernadetta hasn't been carried like this since she was toddler. Her father, even relatives, would carry her around like this, allowing her such a splendid view above everyone's heads. Raphael is even taller than that, so it takes some getting used to, but the view is amazing. From up here, she can see over the gates of her estate to the rolling hills and mountains beyond. She can spot merchants milling around in the roads. It's wonderful.

  
"Alright, you steady up there? I'm going to get us as close to this thing as possible." Raphael jerks his head toward the vines. Bernadetta releases a yelp, gripping his fingers splayed out over her thighs for balance as he begins to move. Within arm's reach, she signals him to stop and bring her the shears. He lifts the basket effortlessly to her, holding her against with one strong arm.

  
Not wanting to be in this precarious position longer than necessary, Bernadetta brushes the bangs out of her face, and starts to methodically clip off the dead and winding vines. It doesn't take long to groom the section directly in front of her, but just as she's finishing up with it, she notices to her right that it's rather unruly as well. 

  
"Raphael, do you mind moving a step or two this way?" 

  
Bernadetta finds herself humming as she trims, gently depositing the clippings into her wicker basket. Raphael doesn't rush her, and moves where she needs him to without any complaint. She's able to trim the entire top of the trellis and the surrounding brambles. She absentmindedly picks a few blooms for her basket as well, to decorate or paint in her art room. 

  
She's so focused on the task at hand that she doesn't notice the guard.

  
"Countess? Countess von Varley?"

  
Bernadetta snaps from her reverie, blinking down at the brick garden path in search of the voice. One of her guards, who seems terribly small from this angle, looks sheepishly up at her. She cries out, flustered, nearly dropping her basket and shears onto Raphael's poor head. 

  
"I did not mean to surprise you, Countess," exclaims the guard, "but there's a visitor for Raphael present at the gates. We need, of course, your permission for them to enter." 

  
Raphael's posture, while already alert, seems to go vibrate with excitement at the message. "A guest for me? Oh, that must be Maya! Bernie, it's my sister!"

  
Bernadetta feels dizzy from embarrassment, but provides her assent to let the visitor into the grounds. Raphael starts toward the gates with her still on his shoulders before she says something.

  
"Um! Um, Raphael, you can put me down now!" 

  
"Oh!" He laughs. "You're so light I almost forgot you were up there!" He gently bends to the ground, allowing her to hop nimbly off him. She sets the basket down on the bench and peeks out at the front gates, not sure if it's polite to interrupt a long-awaited reunion like this.

  
"Maya!" he shouts, jubilantly galloping towards a small figure at the entrance.

  
The woman at the gates waves and then releases a peal of laughter when her brother picks her up and spins her. 

  
"Hi, brother! It's so good to see you!" She squeezes him in a big hug as soon as he sets her down. 

  
"What are you doing here?" He clutches his scalp, clearly beside himself with surprise. "You didn't tell me you were heading this way! I would asked for a day off!"

  
Bernadetta starts to feel self-conscious watching them and listening in on their conversation so she sneaks back to the gardening shed to give them some privacy.

* * *

  
"By the way, who was that on your shoulders?" Maya inquires with a lilt in her voice. "A girlfriend? I saw you two as I was coming up the drive. You two were really cute together!"

  
"G-girlfriend?" Raphael stammers. "No, that was Bernie! You know, the Countess, _my employer_." 

  
"That's Bernie?" Maya responds incredulously. "Oh, I totally didn't expect that! I thought you said she likes to hide indoors. She seemed so comfortable out here with you."

  
Raphael rubs the back of his neck, feeling strangely awkward about the way his sister is describing his relationship with Bernadetta. "We're friends, Maya. We've been friends for years now. She's not all that shy once you really get to know her." 

  
Maya makes a sound in her throat, something that sounds like skepticism. "Well," she acquiesces, "I'm glad you two get along. I was worried with you being all the way out here away from family. But now that I've seen you with my own eyes, I feel a lot better. Do they treat you well?"

  
"Oh, this place is great, Maya!" Raphael spreads his arms in emphasis. "Seriously, the pay is better than I could have expected. All the knights here are humble, quick learners. Food is plentiful and delicious! Couldn't have asked for a better gig."

  
Maya's brown eyes sparkle with happiness. "I'm so glad to hear that, Raph." She produces something from the satchel on her bag. "Here, it's not much but I thought I'd bring you a gift from my latest trading route."

  
"Aw, just give it to me later. We should get something to eat--"

  
"Raph," Maya sticks out her bottom lip in a pout, "I can't stay. I have to get back on the road. The cargo I'm bringing back to grandfather will spoil if I'm out much longer." 

  
"What? You're not staying?" Raphael visibly deflates. 

  
She leans up on her toes to pat him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry. I wasn't even sure I'd be able to see you today, but I'm glad I was able to. Next time, I'll try to carve out a route that allows me to stick around for a little longer, okay?" 

  
She shoves two wrapped parcels into his arms. "Careful with those, okay?" 

  
"At least let me walk you back to your wagon," protests Raphael. 

  
Maya sighs. "Okay, okay!"

  
Raphael signals to the front guards as he accompanies his sister back to her ride. A hitched wagon with two horses and a few hired hands sits out in front of the estate. He helps her onto the bench. Maya artfully tucks her skirt under her, adjusting the hat over hair. 

  
"Stay longer next time, okay?" Raphael pouts. 

  
"You know I'll try." Maya rolls her eyes. "Besides, I wouldn't want to impose on Bernie."

  
"I'll ask her about it next time. I'm sure it won't be a problem. Bernie's probably the nicest person I know." A thought occurs to him. "Oh, you didn't get to meet her!"

  
"Next time," promises Maya. She turns back and gestures to the driver to start the horses, before turning back to him. "Oh, one of those is for Bernie by the way. It's a thank you from us, since she's taking such great care of you here."

  
"I'll make sure to get it to her." 

  
Maya looks at him meaningfully. "Tell her it's from you, okay? I think she'll like that."

  
"What? Why?" Raphael feels stumped by the way she's staring at him, like he's some kind of dunce. 

  
"You should compliment her more, too," Maya tells him cryptically. The wagon starts with a jerk, and Maya holds onto the wooden bench to keep from toppling forward. "Just do it, Raph!" Before he can get a word in edge-wise, she shuts him up with a flamboyant wave goodbye. "Don't forget to write!"

  
Raphael stands there until he can't see the wagon anymore, stupefied by his sister's words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH, BOY, ARE WE GETTING INTO BERNIE CRUSH TERRITORY? 
> 
> Bernadetta is such a pleasure to write. This is probably the easiest it's ever been to write a multi-chapter fic for me. Also, for the few who enjoy this rare-pair, you have no idea how MUCH it means to me to see your comments. Thank you for supporting me and this fic.


	3. Painter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta starts a new painting.
> 
> Raphael gives her a gift.
> 
> Slow-burn Raphael x Bernadetta.

Bernadetta arranges her new flowers from the garden in a clear vase at her windowsill. She steps back, observing the simple arrangement. She expects a spark of inspiration. But there's nothing.

  
It's simply not tickling her artistic senses. With a frown, Bernadetta paces around the art room before stopping at the window and staring out. She brings her hand up, framing potential ideas. A painting of the meadows in the distance? Maybe she could paint the gates? 

  
As she thinks about the gates, she vividly recalls the image of Raphael spinning his sister there yesterday. The way his face caught the sunlight. Her hands drop to their sides. It's perfect.

  
Bernadetta starts sketching ideas on her notebook immediately. At first, she thinks she'll capture the two spinning forms, but her mind keeps going back to Raphael's expression, his smile, his eyes, his blond hair tousled by the wind. Humming, she taps the sketch of his face. She deftly ties an apron behind her and bustles around the room looking for pigments. 

  
Around midday, Alfea drops off her lunch in the room, her scolding tone reminding her to eat. Bernadetta nods, but she forgets. 

  
In the evening, just as the sun has set and Bernadetta needs to use artificial forms of light, Alfea knocks, snapping her out of her painting reverie. "Bernie, you need to eat. My goodness, is that your lunch completely untouched?"

  
Bernadetta blinks at the canvas, where she has only started to put down a base. Alfea plucks her from the seat, coaxing her out of the room. "Bernie, that's quite enough. You need to eat. Let's get something in that belly of yours." 

  
"Aww, Alfie," groans Bernadetta as she's dragged away.

* * *

  
Bernadetta's feet tap restlessly under the desk. She reviews reports with a frown, wondering how much longer she can stand this before she needs to get back to work on her painting.

  
There are a flood of requests from the people in her territory. A majority of them beg her to open an audience chamber to them, so they can settle their domestic disputes. Her father used to spend hours holed up in the main township's audience chamber hearing disputes. A fair amount of those same missives lay out their qualms on paper, as if seemingly aware she has no intention of seeing anyone in person. Again, there are requests from various guilds and businesses requesting her direct attention.

  
Bernadetta groans as she jots down what must be her fifteenth response this morning about trading schedules. Every week, she tries to reply to as many as she can personally. It doesn't matter how much energy expends on it, it's never enough. There's always more, and sometimes it gets so overwhelming she completely shuts down.

  
She asks her servants to sort them into piles, but the piles never seem to get any smaller. She's only one person. 

  
She always saves personal letters for last, for moral support. Dorothea writes her frequently, and for that she is grateful. Petra's frequency is more erratic, but she assumes becoming queen of an island nation can make a person very busy.

  
_Bern,_

  
_You wouldn't believe who came to visit me at the opera the other day! They greeted me with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and a bottle of my favorite wine. How's this for a hint? We spent the afternoon sipping tea, and I got to braid their hair. They are planning to attend another show of mine tomorrow, and we have a fancy dinner planned afterwards. I cannot wait to see if you can guess who it is!_

  
_Now, I completely hear you about the suitors. I'm dealing with my fair share of them here, although I imagine yours is of a much better stock. Not a single one has caught your eye? I don't have much in the way of advice, but try to enjoy the attention while it lasts. It will be over before you know it!_

  
_Now, let's get right to the heart of it, my dearest. You say you've been privately sparring with Raphael? How's that going? You sound happy when you talk about it, and I'm not just talking about your muscles! Is there something you're not telling me? Or am I reading into things too much? You know how my naughty mind works, so I'll need you to set things straight before I start making up fantasies._

  
_With love,_

  
_Dorothea_

* * *

  
As Raphael turns in for the night, he casts another side-long look at the gift Maya had left him. He yanks off his boots before sinking gratefully into his bed. He's glad he has a private room to himself, as the captain of the guard; although the room itself is quite small and he shares walls with his fellow knights.

  
He's already eaten the package of dried, spiced jerky that Maya left for him. The husk of the wrapper lays discarded on his desk. The second package, however, is inedible, and apparently for Bernadetta.

  
Raphael thinks it must be a rare plant, because he's never seen one before. It has delicate green jaws lined with the tiniest teeth, like a mouth. It's actually a little creepy, but the tag says it's a Guardian Fly Trap and that its mouth is for catching bugs. He doesn't dare touch it except by the ceramic pot its in; frankly he's afraid it'll eat him. 

  
He keeps meaning to bring it out to Bernadetta, but he hasn't seen her all week. It's not unusual for her to be holed up inside the manor all week, except for when she spars with him or goes to the archery range. Tomorrow, they'll be sparring, so he think it'll be the perfect time to give it to her.

  
_Why would I tell her it's from me? She'd see right through that, wouldn't she? I don't know a damn thing about this plant! I'll just tell her Maya gave it to me..._

  
Raphael stares at it as he rests his head on the pillow. He blows out the candle on his nightstand, engulfing the room in complete darkness. He shifts in bed, the springs beneath him groaning beneath his bulk. 

  
_Compliment Bernie more? Like what kind of compliment? Why does she need more compliments?_

  
Raphael thinks about it as he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

  
Raphael realizes with a sinking sensation that he's forgotten the plant in his room again. His day is so packed today, he knows he won't have time to get by the end of the day. 

  
Bernadetta appears around the corner, waving cheerfully. Her long hair is plaited to one side today, exposing the curve of her pale cheek and long neck to the rosy dawn glow. She's in her usual sparring uniform. There's nothing he feels like he can compliment without really embarrassing her, is the thing.

  
"Morning, Raphael!" She pumps her arms. "I woke up on time today! I bet that surprised you."

  
He grins. "Morning to you too, Bernie. Yeah, I noticed you're getting better about that lately." 

  
"So, what are we going to do today? More deflection work?"

  
"Your hair is cute today," Raphael blurts. "Er, I mean, your hair--it's nice, I mean. A nice hairstyle!"

  
Bernadetta looks like she's taken an arrow in the side, shock freezing her mouth open. "W-what?" she replies, stepping back like she's about to run from an ambush.

  
"You--your hair? You braided it today." Raphael shakes his head, feeling rather nervous. "Never mind, sorry, forget I said that." He turns and snaps on his training gauntlets. "We're going to work on some simple brawling techniques today." He looks over his shoulder, to see her still looking stiffly at him. "Is that okay?"

  
Bernadetta's face is a beet-red. "Oh, brawling. Yeah, that's fine," she manages, shuffling over to take the smaller gauntlets from him. They're the smallest pair he could find in the armory, but it's pretty clear that they are still too large for her tiny hands.

  
"Hmm, that's no good. Here, let me get you some bandages and we'll wrap your hands before you slip them on. That'll be better for your grip." 

  
He returns shortly with a roll of gauze. She pulls off the gauntlets, and starts to take the roll from him, but he pulls away. "Actually, do you mind I wrap? I've got more experience and I don't want you to get hurt if it's done incorrectly. I can show you next time so you can start practicing."

  
Bernadetta nods, extending her tiny hands. He deftly begins to wrap them; it's almost second nature, except her hands are so much smaller, so he has to tighten them more than he's used to. When he's done, he hands her the gauntlets. "Better?"

  
"Oh, that's much better," she says, smiling up at him. "Do we just start punching each other now?"

  
He laughs so loud that Bernadetta squeaks and steps back. Finally, he catches his breath and gestures toward the brawling mat. "Goddess, no! Forms first."

  
He spends about an hour showing her forms: how to minimize surface area against incoming impacts, how to dodge, basic footwork.

  
Bernadetta spends the entire time looking like she wants to punch something. The way her one cheek puffs out when she's concentrating is the most adorable thing he thinks he's ever seen. Once, when he's distracted looking at her, she playfully socks him in the shoulder.

  
"Ouch, watch it--"

  
"Oh no! Did I hurt you--"

  
Raphael shakes his head with a laugh. "No, no, takes a lot more than that to hurt me. Goddess, you're really rearing to go today, huh?"

  
"I was expecting you to block it or something," she replies apologetically. "I always see you brawling with the other knights, so I guess I'm just excited I get a go at it too." 

  
"Alright, we've got about ten more minutes. This one time, we can do some practice punches since you're so eager."

  
Bernadetta lifts her fists up, guarding the front of her body as he instructed her to. "Okay, I'm ready."

  
He gets into battle stance, like he's done a million times before. He steps forward with a jab. Surprised, she scoots back. He moves in, closing the gap, going for a simple uppercut but slowing it down enough so she can react. Bernadetta brings her gauntlets down to absorb the blow. 

  
"Nice catch, Bernie!" 

  
She ducks and crosses over to the side of the mat, arms tucked a little too close to her sides. Raphael positions himself defensively, sensing that she will approach before long. He blocks her next punch. Her brow knits in concentration, and she wisely brings her arm back in to avoid the mistake of keeping herself open. She tries again, but he blocks it, expecting a repeat performance. Raphael knows better than to try to go on the offensive with such a beginner, but something itches to make him do it anyway. There's a look of surprise in Bernadetta's eyes as he loosens a punch. She catches it with a gasp, and his other arm goes for the stomach. With a fierce look, she blocks that too. The newfound confidence in her face makes him feel dizzy for a second. That small grin of anticipation: it completely disarms him. They're close now, and before she can go on the offensive herself, he steps back to give her space, heart racing, arms raised in surrender.

  
"T-that's good for today. Nice work!" 

  
Bernadetta blinks, shaking the look of concentration from her face. "Oh, that went by really fast."

  
"You like sparring?" he asks, clearing his throat as he pulls off his gauntlets. 

  
She nods enthusiastically as she sheds her gauntlets. "It's more fun than I thought it would be. Dorothea--" Bernadetta claps her hands to her mouth, looking like a hare caught in a trap. 

  
Raphael cocks his head quizzically. "What?"

  
"Nothing!" Bernadetta replies, more loudly than necessary. "Um, I've got some paperwork to do. Inside the house, so...so I have to go now." 

  
Before he can manage a response, she turns tail and disappears around the corner. He realizes something, but it's too late.

  
_Aw, the gift! I forgot to tell her!_

* * *

  
When she gets inside, she heads straight for her art room, hoping for solace from jitters of nerves in her belly. Bernadetta enters the room and nearly walks into the half-finished portrait of Raphael on the easel. When she sees it, she can feel her body flush from head to toe. 

  
_Why am I drawing Raphael? Oh, Goddess, this is so embarrassing! I can't even look at it right now!_

  
She hurriedly adjusts the easel, tugging it until it faces a wall. She closes the door behind her and resolves to do office paperwork for the rest of the day.

  
Alfea raps her knuckles on the open door of the office by mid-afternoon. "Bernie, it's about time for you to get ready for another one of your callers."

  
Bernadetta looks up blearily from the financial reports of the estate. "Caller?" she echoes dumbly.

  
Alfea clarifies, "One of your suitors."

  
Her eyes go wide at the mention. "Oh, Goddess, I totally forgot!" Bernadetta rushes out of the office in a blur of motion, footsteps pounding on the floorboards.

  
Alfea trails behind her. "Dinner preparations are on track, and your evening's outfit is by the mirror. No need to fret."

  
Bernadetta wriggles out of her clothes, and hurriedly tries to put on a midnight-blue gown with white lace trim on the bodice and sleeves. Bernadetta doesn't have much say in her formal clothes, but Alfea is more than qualified to pick a suitable outfit for the occasion. Bernadetta quickly powders her face, and re-plaits her hair. She wonders if she should leave it down, but then remembers what Raphael said to her this morning, and decides to leave it just as it is. Alfea dutifully buttons up the back of the gown. "The lip stain, Bernie," she reminds her gently.

  
Bernadetta groans. "It's just going to come off when I eat."

  
"Bernie, you know your mother--"

  
Bernadetta swipes it from the vanity and applies just the barest tinge of lip stain. Her lips look huge when they're this red. 

  
"W-who am I meeting tonight?"

  
"He's a viscount from Enbarr. Danison of House--"

  
"Oh, right, I remember." Bernadetta looks decidedly unhappy.

  
Alfea gives the young countess a squeeze. "It will only be a couple of hours, Bernie."

  
Bernadetta stiffens as she hears a carriage pull up to the manor. 

* * *

  
Raphael's muscles ache from fatigue. He's slowly making his way to the barracks when one the servants of Varley manor hails him. 

  
"Ah, Sir Raphael, there you are. The Countess is requesting a guard be posted near the dining room this evening. She asked for you in particular."

  
Raphael blinks slowly as the words knit themselves in his head. _Why would she want a guard outside of the dining room? Unless--oh! Right, right, there must be another suitor here tonight..._

  
"Not a problem. I'll be right there."

  
"Wonderful." They give him a nod and return to the main house. 

  
Raphael changes direction to the armory to dress in some simple armor and to grab a weapon, then heads toward the east wing housing the dining room. Most of the knights, including himself, are never stationed inside the house. If anything, they'd cause more harm than good being trapped in close quarters like that. Lately, with all the suitors swarming to the estate, he's been finding himself stationed close to the house those very same evenings. Sometimes, she even asks him directly if he'll just stay by the window the whole night so she can see him. He's not sure what she's worried about; they vet the suitors to protocol and strictly confiscate weapons on the premises, but Bernadetta has always been peculiar and if it makes her feel better, he's happy to stand guard.

  
When he gets to his post, he sees Bernadetta through the window in a stunning dark blue velvet dress. His grip on the axe goes slack for just a second before he forces himself to turn around and stare at the edge of the brick wall that encloses the manor. From this distance it's impossible to hear what is being said inside, but Raphael strains to listen all the same. 

  
_Good knights don't gawk._

  
Raphael clears his throat at no one in particular. After a while, he peeks over his shoulder to catch another glimpse.

  
Bernadetta's face is practically buried in her food. 

  
_She's probably really nervous in there..._

  
As he understands it, Bernadetta's never even met most of these suitors coming to visit her. Why she has to put up with it and entertain them when it looks so miserable is beyond him. She doesn't talk about it with him. 

  
Gradually, the lights from inside the dining room dim. He glances back and sees that the room is empty, with servants collecting the dishes. Barely out of earshot, he can hear the sounds of Bernadetta's guest taking their leave. Shortly, the sound of a carriage rolls out into the night and disappears. Raphael takes it as his cue to leave his post. He returns his equipment to the armory. When he reaches his room, he crashes face-down on the bed with a moan of relief. 

  
He release a huge yawn and is about to nod off when he sees the plant sitting on his nightstand. It looks...worse for wear, if he's being honest with himself. It's not as perky as it was when Maya handed it off to him several days ago. With a jolt of panic, Raphael wonders if it's dying. 

  
He heaves himself up and scoops up the plant, hurrying to the manor, hoping it's not too late.

* * *

  
Bernadetta watches to make sure the gates have closed behind her latest suitor before the tension finally leaves her body. She releases a sigh of relief, sinking gratefully against the window pane. 

  
_Pure torture..._

  
Bernadetta starts to undo her braid, ascending the stairs to her room to change into her comfiest nightgown. She shakes her hair free, combing the waves down. She notices with a start that she left a light on in her art room. She floats into the room, and finds her easel facing the wall just as she left it. As she reaches for it, she hears footsteps coming up behind her. 

  
"I know, Alfie, I'm going to bed. I just wanted to--"

  
"Hey, Bernie."

  
Bernadetta about-faces quickly, nearly knocking over her easel.

  
_Oh, Goddess! Raphael?_

  
She flashes him a wooden smile, hovering nervously in front of her easel, hoping to the goddess above he can't see what's on it.

  
Raphael looks sheepish, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. In the other, he's holding a small, droopy-looking plant. 

  
"Alfea let me in. She said you were still up, and ah," he holds up the plant, "I needed to get this to you before it died on me." 

  
Bernadetta stares at the plant. "Is that...is that a Guardian Fly Trap?" Bernadetta's jaw drops open. "Where did you get that? It's the most beautiful--well, it can use a little water, but it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!" 

  
Raphael holds it out to her gingerly, looking almost as shy as she usually does. "When Maya stopped by, she asked me to give this to you as a thank-you gift."

  
"It's for me?" Bernadetta slowly takes the plant and cradles it to her chest. "Raphael, this is the most amazing gift I've ever..." She rotates the plant in the pot, her enormous gray eyes taking in every detail. "Fly Traps are so rare." There's a quake on her lips. She brings a hand to her mouth, holding in a shriek of happiness. 

  
Raphael's smile softens at her expression. "I'm glad you like it. I better get going. I didn't mean to keep you up or interrupt your painting." He gestures broadly to the easel behind her, and Bernadetta blanches. 

  
"Um, it's not--"

  
"Goodnight, Bernie." Raphael gives her a wave as he steps out of the room. His hand rests on the door frame and he turns back once before he disappears into the hallway. "By the way, you look really beautiful tonight."

  
Bernadetta freezes, but he's already gone. She can hear him descend the staircase. _W-what? Did he just...call me beautiful?_ She stands there for a long time, so warm she starts to sweat, pressing her hands to her face. She wonders briefly if she's dreaming. 

  
Alfea pokes her head into the room, an almost imperceptible smile on her face. "Bernie, let's get you ready for bed."

  
Bernadetta allows Alfea to guide her back to her bedroom, but not before she snatches up her latest gift with her. As soon as they reach her bedroom, Bernadetta rests the plant with great care on her nightstand and proceeds to spritz it with water from a nearby spray bottle.

  
"That's a new one, isn't it?" Alfea muses as she starts to undo the row of buttons at the back of Bernadetta's dress.

  
"It's a Guardian Fly Trap, Alfie!" Bernadetta puts the full-force of her doe eyes on her. "Raphael's sister got it for me! They're so rare! How did she even know? Can you believe it? _Can you?_ " 

  
Alfea laughs. "Oh, I think I have an idea."

  
When she slips out of her gown, Bernadetta hangs the dress in her wardrobe, fingers grazing over the trim fondly. "Oh, thank you for...helping me pick a dress today." 

  
Alfie tilts her head in confusion. "By now, this old maid is used to having to choose your formal wear. There's no need to thank me. Don't stay up all night ogling that strange plant, will you?" Alfea stifles a chuckle and leaves the room, closing the door gently behind her.

  
Bernadetta crawls into bed, pulling the covers up to her nose. She stares at the plant until she falls asleep.

* * *

  
Raphael practically sprints back to the barracks, cheeks ruddy with color. 

  
_Why'd I say that? WHY did I say that?_

  
Raphael cannot believe himself. He'd been fishing for a compliment to give her, like Maya said, but he hadn't intended to say _that_. 

  
Raphael slows as he reaches his room.

  
_But she really was._

  
Bernadetta's hair cascading down her back and shoulders in curly waves. Her pretty gray eyes sparkling with excitement, lips bright pink in the candlelight. The pale curve of her shoulders , sharply contrasted against dark blue velvet. Like some kind of plant princess from a fairy-tale. He's never seen her like that before. 

  
_Alright, alright, cut it out, Raph. You can't be going around thinking that way about Bernie. She's...she's a noble. She's your boss._

  
Raphael throws an arm over his face and tries to fall asleep. But all he can think about is Bernie.

* * *

  
_Bern,_

  
_Why, what a surprise! My dearest Bern asking me for fashion advice? Did a suitor catch your eye after all? Oh, I'm delighted by this development. You simply must tell me more about those dinners you're having. Who's the special someone?_

  
_I'm truly disappointed you weren't able to guess who I was talking about in my last letter. Why on earth would you think of Linhardt? That boy is so lazy, and you know how I feel about complacent, lazy nobles. Now, I must say, Hilda was a good guess. She's very cute, isn't she? But isn't she off gallivanting with silly little Caspar? Well, regardless, I'll probably reveal who they are very soon. Things seem to be going...well between us. If you believe in whirlwind romances and that sort of thing._

  
_I do hope you'll come visit me soon at the opera. You know I'll save front row seats for you and your special new someone._

  
_With love,_

  
_Dorothea_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is...is Raphael starting to get flustered? Say it ain't so. 
> 
> I'm determined to finish this series in the next week, but there's a lot to squeeze into my last two chapters.
> 
> Comments are extremely motivating, so thank you to everyone who has left me a message!


	4. Orator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta and Raphael exchange gifts, and some words.

"You seem distracted, Captain. Everything okay?"

  
Raphael looks up with a start, nearly dropping the axe on his foot. A few of the knights in his order look to him for a response. He waves it away with a grin. "Yeah, just been a long mission. Thinking about home, that's all."

  
"You can say that again!" One of his knights stretches the sore muscles in their back. "I can't wait to sleep in an actual bed again."

  
"Not too long now," grins another, slapping them on the back. 

  
Bandits have been causing problems for the merchants of Varley territory, giving Bernadetta no choice but to send Raphael's team out in response. They have spent weeks on the road, subduing raiders and escorting merchants safely to their destinations. At this point in their mission, everyone is bone-tired from camping out on the cold, hard ground with nothing but beans and bread to eat.

  
Most of the knights start to ready their sleeping pallets. Raphael stays awake, in full armor, keeping watch. They'll be heading back to the Varley estate in the morning. Still, the journey will take a few days.

  
He looks up at the stars, and wonders what his family is up to. 

  
He wonders what Bernie's up to.

* * *

  
When the knights return, Bernadetta receives a report on her desk first thing in the morning. Given that it's the most important thing on her plate for the day, Bernadetta skips out her regular rounds of archery and holes herself up in the office.

  
Due to her own time as a lieutanent general during the war, the reporting reads easily and the terms used are quite familiar. No civilian casualties once the knights arrived. However, in the pages of the multi-sheet report, she notices scribbles the margins. Although she's famililar with Raphael's handwriting, these scribbles are illegible and seem to appear at random locations throughout the report.

  
Bernadetta stares at them for a long time. She even takes out her notebook to see if she can translate the short-hand herself. Eventually, she accepts that she's stumped, and slumps back in her chair. She thinks about leaving the room to find Raphael, but the outdoors are too tempting to her right now. If she leaves now, she'll never come back to complete her paperwork. Finally, she decides to ask one of her servants to call on Raphael.

  
When he arrives in her office, Raphael looks uncharacteristically nervous, and rather tired. Bernadetta instantly feels terrible for having him dragged up here. 

  
"Hi, Bernie. Is something the matter with the report?" Raphael looks sheepish, scratching the back of his head.

  
Bernadetta shoots out of her seat, feeling nervous and sheepish suddenly too. "No, it's nothing like that! The contents of the report read perfectly fine to me! I just...noticed some things in the margins. I thought they might be important foot-notes or something, but I couldn't figure them out. I thought maybe you could help me understand them?" Bernadetta ducks her head, voice lowering. "I'm so sorry, Raphael. I totally forgot you just got back. You must be really tired..."

  
Raphael shakes his head. "It's my job to get you the report as soon as possible, tired or not." He gives her a reassuring smile. "I might have been a little careless, but I can take a look at those margins; see if I missed something, you know?" 

  
Bernadetta grabs the report and offers it to him just as he steps forward and pulls up a seat. They both stop abruptly, looking at each other for cues.

  
"Oh, of course, sit! Please, sit down!" Bernadetta manages, gesturing to the chair.

  
_He's tired, Bernie! What were you thinking? Don't make him stand there and read it!_

  
"Are you sure?"

  
"Yes, I insist!" she replies, nodding for emphasis.

  
Raphael slips into the chair and she starts to pass him the report when she notices the infinite stacks of papers piled upon her desk, completely covering any free surface area on the desk itself.

  
"Sorry, it's a little messy!" Bernadetta starts to move some piles around, but shrieks when one landslides over the table and sheets splash all over the floor at Raphael's feet.

  
Raphael and Bernadetta drop down to the mess at the same time, and knock heads.

  
"Ouch!" 

  
"Are you okay?" Raphael's hand shoots out immediately, holding Bernadetta steady as she clutches her aching head.

  
"I'm fine," she says through a pained smile, her entire face flushing at her own clumsiness. 

  
_Oh, Goddess, Bernie! What are you doing? Why are you like this? This is so embarrassing!_

  
"Here, let me," Raphael tells her gently, kneeling and gathering all the papers. "Do you need these in a certain order?"

  
Bernadetta makes to shake her head.

  
"These are a lot...military documents," Raphael says, as he piles them back on the desk. He gives the piles on the desk a hard look. "Are all these for you?"

  
"It's...all just Varley paperwork. I need to do all this to keep things here running." Bernadetta's voice goes small. "I'm not very good at it, obviously..."

  
"Do you need help?"

  
Bernadetta stills, eyes flicking back up to him. "What?"

  
Raphael's eyebrows are raised. "I mean, how is one person supposed to do all of this, Bernie? Do you want me to help you?"

  
Bernadetta blinks, her eyes wide and staring. "You'd...help me? But...I can't pay you--"

  
Raphael gives her a grin. "C'mon, Bernie, what do you take me for? I don't want any more of your money. We're both used to military documents, aren't we? I mean, I can't help you with all of it. I'm no good at running a house or anything, but I can help with all the merchant and martial affairs. I'm from a merchant family, and I was a general in the war and all."

  
Bernadetta's lips part as she stares at him.

  
"Unless some of this stuff is confidential, of course," he starts.

  
Bernadetta mutters something, too quiet to hear.

  
"What?"

  
Bernadetta feels so grateful she can barely speak. She looks at him earnestly, and Raphael breaks into a wide smile. He nods, understanding.

  
"Alright, how about we go ahead and get started after I review my report?"

  
Raphael can't seem to recall what the scribbles were for. Ultimately, he blames his fatigue for them. After the report is fully reviewed by the two of them, they start split up the piles according to topic and start to bulldoze through things. Occasionally, Raphael leans over to ask her about something, to clarify some questions, or to ask her advice on her approach, but otherwise, he's just as efficient at paperwork as she is, maybe even more with his delegated topics.

  
Bernadetta notices the time with shock. "It's almost dark!" She looks at Raphael in panic. "Did I take you away from your work?"

  
Raphael looks up from one of the documents, smiling easily. "Oh, don't sweat it. The knights I took with me for the mission are on a mandatory break right now. We don't start training up again until tomorrow."

  
Bernadetta's shoulders relax. "That was nice of you to do."

  
"No sense pushing too hard. Everyone needs a break once in a while, right?"

  
Bernadetta looks at the sea of paperwork around them, and releases a laugh. "Yeah, I suppose." She bites her lip, feeling suddenly self-conscious at the way he looks at her. "We should...stop here today. You helped me out a lot, Raphael. Thank you."

  
"Hey, don't even mention it." Raphael stands up, stretching. His shirt rides up, exposing his very impressive abs and Bernadetta's eyes go wide before quickly flicking to the floor. "Any excuse to spend more time with you is a plus in my book."

  
_He just said that so casually... He likes spending time with me?_

  
Bernadetta's busies herself stacking the remainder of her piles. They've made a lot of progress today, and for the first time in a long time, she feels a flood of relief. At this rate, she might be able to keep the flow of paperwork under control. That is, if Raphael can still help her every once in a while. 

  
_I...can't ask him to do that, though. He's already got so much on his plate. I basically forced this job on him, after all._

  
"I should probably head out myself."

  
Bernadetta's head shoots up from the stacks of paper, and she almost asks him to stay, but stops herself. 

  
_What excuse do I have for keeping here? Company? That's...silly, Bernie._

  
"O-okay, Raphael. Goodnight."

  
Raphael gives her a wave and sees himself out. "Goodnight, Bernie."

* * *

  
The next day, Bernadetta's humming to herself when Alfie knocks on the office door. 

  
"What's got you in such a good mood, Bernie?" Alfea says teasingly. 

  
"N-nothing!" Bernadetta responds, clearing her throat and tucking her hair back. "I'm just doing some boring paperwork, and it's _so_ boring, I had to sing to distract myself."

  
Alfea smiles, but doesn't press her. "Raphael's here to see you."

  
Bernadetta straightens in her seat, hands clenching the papers so hard some of them crease. "What?"

  
"He says he's helping you with some of the paperwork?" Alfea offers by way of explanation. "Shall I admit him?"

  
_He wants to keep helping me? I thought yesterday was a one-time thing._

  
Bernadetta nods, immediately smoothing her tunic down and blindly combing her fingers through her hair when Alfea disappears down the hallway. She feels herself starting to sweat. She stares at the same page until Raphael knocks on the door, looking a lot more energetic than yesterday.

  
"Hey, Bernie!"

  
"Hi!" she squeaks, her voice nearly cracking. "I didn't realize you were coming back!"

  
Raphael raises an eyebrow, looking at the stack of papers in front of her. "Figured you still needed the help. Unless...?"

  
Bernadetta sags in her seat. "Well, you're definitely right about that..."

  
Raphael laughs. "Then why wouldn't I come back?"

  
"I...don't know," she says weakly.

  
"I can't stay as long as yesterday, but I've got a little free time right now. Want me to help you knock some things out?" he replies with a grin.

  
Bernadetta nods, averting her eyes when her heart starts to beat like a drum in her chest. 

  
_Oh, Goddess...what's happening? Why do I feel so dizzy all of a sudden? Why's it so warm in here? Aren't the windows open?_

  
Bernadetta casts a wild glance at the windows behind her, and sure enough, they are all open. She curls up in her chair, hoping Raphael doesn't notice how strange she's acting. The drumming in her chest does fade, but it's irritatingly replaced with some unladylike sweating in her palms and arm pits.

  
An hour or so passes, and suddenly Raphael's eyes widen as he holds up a stack. "Wow, Bernie, you've been receiving a lot of...audience requests. I didn't realize noble families had to deal with all this."

  
Bernadetta sinks into her chair, wishing she could disappear. "Oh, yeah, I..." Her voice goes tiny. "I'm not very good at meeting with strangers, so I...I just ignore those."

  
Raphael looks astonished at her admission. Bernadetta feels a lump form in her throat, her excuses trapped in her dry mouth.

  
_Oh, Goddess. Is he disappointed in me too? He must think I'm being such a coward._

  
Raphael's expression changes into something that resembles thoughtfulness and compassion. "Yeah, that does sound really scary, Bernie. But if you look at it from their point of view, I think it would be really helpful for them to have you listen to their concerns, you know?"

  
Bernadetta risks a glance at him, but he doesn't look stern or critical, just pensive. "What do you mean?"

  
"When I was little, my parents always asked for an audience with the local liege to get help for things. They always came back a lot less stressed about the family business. I guess meeting with the liege was really good for them!"

  
Bernadetta looks down at her feet.

  
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to you, but you've got a lot of resources as the Countess. It could really help some people."

  
"I...of course, I want to help," Bernadetta recalls her father's sharp criticisms with a flash of cold dread. " I'm just no good with people. And my father, he always told me I was terrible and unsuitable for anything other than maybe marriage--"

  
"Whoa, stop right there!" Raphael stands up, his chest puffed out indignantly. "Bernie, you're plenty good with people. Back at the monastery, everyone loved to spend time with you. Me included!"

  
Bernadetta would have stumbled back had she not been seated. Raphael, the gentle giant, coming to her defense. She can only stare with her gray eyes wide in alarm. 

  
"And listen, I never knew your father, but he's got you totally wrong! You're great at everything. You can play instruments, paint, sew, fight, cook, garden--I mean you're seriously something special. And you're a great Countess. The knights really respect you, and so do I."

  
Bernadetta's lips part in surprise. She's completely embarrassed from head to toe being deluged in so many compliments. Her hands immediately go to her warm cheeks, hoping to hide the blush from him. He looks completely serious, and not even a little self-conscious for saying all the things he just did. In fact, with the way he looks at her, he looks as though he can keep going if she so much as nods in assent. The idea makes her sweat even more. "T-thank you, Raphael. I don't know what to say," she manages, still clutching her face.

  
"Hey, I'm sorry I brought this all up." Raphael shakes his head. "It's obviously not something you want to do. I didn't mean to push you."

  
"No, you're...sort of right. I do want to. I want to try, anyway. I might not be any good at it, but...if it could really help people..." She trails off, biting her lip.

  
_What am I even saying? Even if I wanted to, it's not like it could ever happen, just like that. This is way out of my comfort zone._

  
"We could practice, if you want to give it a try," Raphael suggests.

  
"Practice what?"

  
"Practice speaking in front of others. You could start with me, right? We already talk all the time!"

  
Bernadetta's heart starts to drum even faster. She feels like she might even die of whatever this strange disease is. "You want me to practice talking to you?"

  
"I can pretend to be just any other merchant, and you could try to help me with my requests. What do you say? You'll be ready for audiences in no time!"

  
 _Oh, Goddess. Why is it so hot in here?_ Raphael's idea is sound, but she's apprehensive. She knows he's not proposing audiences right away, but he seems to think it's something she can build up to. Like he believes in her. Bernadetta tugs at her collar, feeling so warm she feels like she should strip naked and take a cold shower.

  
Raphael suddenly crosses the space between them, his brow knit in concern. "Bernie, are you okay? You look...really warm." He presses the back of hand to forehead, and Bernie starts to run even warmer, as if it's even possible. 

  
"The thought of audiences makes me feel...really scared," Bernadetta admits. 

  
Raphael's gaze softens, and he bends down until he's level with her small form. "It's okay to be scared. You've never tried it before, right? But you're not alone. I'll help you. Practice first, okay? Just like when we train."

  
"Just like training," she echoes. Suddenly, the knot in her chest loosens a little. She smiles at him nervously, nodding. 

* * *

  
He doesn't come everyday, but every once in a while, Alfea will let him up into the office when Bernadetta's busy working. Between sparring, paperwork and the occasional orator practice sessions, she starts to see a lot of Raphael. With both of them splitting up the work, as the weeks progress, Bernadetta starts to see the piles diminish and she's able to spend more time practicing her speaking skills.

  
Bernadetta fidgets from across the room, watching Raphael pretend to be a merchant whose farm was just razed to the ground by rampaging wild wyverns. Raphael is terrible at acting. He tries to look pleading, but only succeeds in giving her a poorly-hidden smile and an eyebrow waggle.

  
Bernadetta's stomach does a strange flip. She stutters something, but by the look on his face, it doesn't make sense.

  
"Sorry, Bern--Countess von Varley, what was that? My poor merchant ears didn't catch that."

  
"There's a emergency fund...we could...um...use to help you repair your farm." Every time she practices, it gets a little easier, but she still feels ridiculous. Just the other day, Alfea walked in on them during practice and Bernadetta nearly fainted from fright. Now, they keep the door closed and locked until practice is over.

  
"Oh, an emergency fund? How quickly can I get the funds to my farm?"

  
Bernadetta searches her memories, trying to recall the dossier about farm reparations. "First, we'll need to send a messenger to inspect the farm and assess the damage. They'll draft a report and submit it to the reparations committee. I can...approve it from there. I think it could take, a few weeks?" Her voice rises gingerly in a question at the end.

  
Raphael nod enthusiastically. "Yeah, that sounds great! Maybe try ending it with more firmness, Bernie."

  
Bernie shifts on her feet uncomfortably. "It will take three weeks?"

  
Raphael laughs. "Okay, that's better, but you're the one in charge, remember? So less questions and more like, 'It's going to take three weeks, and that's that!'"

  
Bernadetta nods. "Right, I'm in charge..."

  
Raphael nods, looking proud. 

  
Bernadetta feels the air leave her lungs at that look. 

  
_He...is so handsome like that._

  
She claps a hand to her face as soon as the thought crosses her mind. 

  
Raphael immediately looks concerned. "Are you okay?"

* * *

  
Bernadetta paces the space of her art room, frustrated. She hasn't been able to get the yellow color she wants quite right. She's almost finished with the portrait of Raphael, but his hair looks flat on her canvas, and nothing like the gold that it looks like in real life.

  
She tries adding a little more white pigment, but it ends up just washing everything out. She's so close to wrapping up this portrait, though. With a frown, she puts down the paintbrush. She needs a breather, and mucking up her colors is not doing her any good.

  
Bernadetta peeks outside the window, catching a glimpse of Raphael patrolling his usual spot during this time of day. She shucks off her painter's apron and grabs the shawl from a nearby chair and wraps it around herself, hurrying out the hallway and down the stairs. 

  
She waves as she approaches him outside. Raphael waves back, a grin breaking open his previously serious expression.

  
"Hi, Bernie! How's that painting going?"

  
Bernadetta blanches, stepping back as if to retreat. "What painting?" Her voice rises an octave.

  
Raphael jerks his chin up toward the window of the art room. "I see you painting there sometimes. You also have some paint on you right now." He points to her cheek.

  
Bernadetta blinks in bewilderment, her hand immediately rubbing at the offending cheek.

  
Raphael breaks into a laugh. "You missed it."

  
She tries again. When she fails again, Raphael leans forward, the leather of his glove soft on her face. He swipes a thumb along her jaw, and she almost bites her tongue at the strange shock it spends down her spine. The thundering of her heart comes back. She's flabbergasted.

  
"There, got it." He shows her a spot of yellow paint on his glove. 

  
Her eyes automatically go from the glove to his hair, and she's suddenly realizes what she needs to do to get the exact match.

  
"So what are you painting? Flowers?"

  
Bernadetta's attention jerks back to their conversation. "Uh, no...not flowers."

  
Raphael watches her expectantly, a small smile on his face. 

  
"It's a person," she admits, her face warming.

  
"Oh, they must be a special person."

  
Bernadetta stares down at her feet in mortification. "Oh. Yes."

* * *

  
Raphael finds Bernadetta at the sparring grounds first. He stares at her in surprise. She's looking up at the sunrise, eyes closed and smiling. It's a damn pretty sight. He considers telling her; it's a compliment, right?

  
_But I don't want to go embarrassing her again..._

  
She turns with a start when she hears him approach, then brightens when she recognizes him. "Oh, morning, Raphael. Look, I got here earlier than you today!"

  
Raphael returns her smile. "Yeah, looks like you did. I'm impressed."

  
Her smile widens. "So more brawling today?"

  
Raphael nods, handing her the gauze to wrap her knuckles. Bernadetta's tongue peeks out of her lips as she concentrates on wrapping her knuckles. Brawlers like Raphael and Caspar make it seem effortless, but she's not terribly good at it yet. Raphael stares at her little pink tongue until it disappears behind her lips. He feels weird and a little bit like a creep, watching her with such intensity.

  
They start with warm-up exercises. Raphael easily dodges Bernadetta's attacks. She's lithe, faster on her feet than he is, but her blows are hesitant and don't have much force behind them. When he goes after her, he softens his blows significantly and slows them down so she can practice catching or moving around them. After an hour, Bernadetta steps back, breathing hard. 

  
"Need a break?"

  
"Yes, please," she pants, swiping sweaty bangs out of her face. She slumps onto the brawling mat, her gauntlets arranged awkwardly around her.

  
Raphael leans against the wall, waiting for her to catch her breath. "Say, Bernie, do you want to try kicks today? We can keep it light."

  
"I can't promise I'll be any good, but I can try," she offers. Bernadetta looks down at her pale legs. They look nothing like Raphael's in tone, length or color.

  
"Don't worry; that's what practice is for!" Raphael offers her a hand, and she takes it. He lifts her to standing position with incredible ease, and then steps back. He performs a simple kick for her against a practice dummy in the corner, then asks her to try it too. There is, frankly speaking, no way that Bernadetta is going to be able to kick nearly as high as him. He's two whole heads taller than her. 

  
"Do...I need to hit the same spot?" she asks uneasily.

  
Raphael laughs. "No, not at all! I don't think you can even reach that spot. Just try to follow the pattern. I'll watch and give you pointers."

  
Bernadetta smacks the training dummy with her leg, and ends up wobbling back. Raphael catches her before she can fall back on her ass, further embarrassing herself. 

  
"Think you're trying to kick too high and it's putting you off balance," he says. He taps her leg, and suddenly Bernadetta is hyper-aware of the brief press of his fingers on her thigh. "Do you want me to guide you?"

  
Bernadetta gulps down the lump in her throat. "Um, you're going to touch my leg?"

  
"Well, I was going to guide it," Raphael's cheeks turn faintly pink, "but if you're not comfortable with that, never mind. How about you try again?" He steps back, his arms crossed behind his back. 

  
Bernadetta steps back from the dummy. She leans back, trying to mimic Raphael's movements, and swings her leg until it meets the dummy. It lands lower this time, and Bernadetta releases a sigh of relief. 

  
"How was that?" 

  
"Not bad," Raphael nods, gesturing at her to continue. "Try to slow down the movement though. The form is more important than where it lands. You don't want to twist too fast and sustain an injury."

  
Bernadetta spends her time adjusting her kicks to Raphael's specifications. It's a little difficult at first, because he refuses to touch her after her floundering leg question but he still gets close enough to show her the right way to move. They're nearing the end of their session when Raphael gives her a wide grin. "I think you've got it! Want to practice with me before we wrap up?"

  
"Okay, I'm ready!" Bernadetta looks fired up. She stares at the ground, making sure there's enough distance between her and Raphael to land her foot.

  
_I could really kick someone down like this! I can do this!_

  
Bernadetta swing her leg. Raphael catches it easily in his hands, gently letting it back down. She jumps up in excitement. "I...I did it!"

  
"I knew you would!" 

  
Bernadetta's smile is brimming with confidence. She lands another, turning and using her other leg, just like he showed her earlier. Raphael catches them effortlessly. She's trying to aim just below his stomach, but he's too tall. If she thinks about it too much, her kicks become erratic so she tries to go by instinct. 

  
"Try with a little more force, Bernie," Raphael encourages her.

  
Bernadetta nods, stepping back to start the form over again. When he catches it, she wobbles a little, but he holds her steady. Her lips purse into a line as she concentrates, trying to move faster to put more momentum behind the kick. After a few tries, she's can tell Raphael has to work hard to keep her leg from hitting him in the abdomen. She feels energized by the improvement.

  
With perhaps a little too much zeal, she tries for a kick more powerful than the last. She realizes a moment too late that her aim is too low. She's going to kick him right in the groin. Bernadetta inhales sharply and tries to retract her leg, but it's too late and she completely starts to lose her balance. Raphael catches her foot anyway, and then they both go tumbling down to the mat.

  
"Are you okay, Bernie?"

  
When Bernadetta looks up, Raphael's face is right in front of her. "S-sorry!" she splutters. "I almost hit you in, um, the wrong place."

  
"What?"

  
Her eyes flicker instinctively to his groin, and she immediately brings them back up out of sheer mortification when she realizes he's basically straddling her to the ground. Her eyes flutter shut, trying to block out the image, but she can still feel his large thighs around her, and the warmth of his breath on her cheek.

  
_Oh, Goddess, I can't even look at him right now. This is too much!_

  
After a beat, Raphael scrambles off her. He clears his throat, a touch too loudly. "Okay, well, let's wrap things up for today."

  
Raphael avoids her gaze when she finally peeks one eye open. She's still curled up on the mat, looking terrified. She nods numbly and watches as Raphael retreats out of sight.

* * *

  
When Raphael goes to bed that night, he can't stop thinking about Bernadetta. 

  
He's been thinking about her a lot lately, even when it's not about sparring. He mind naturally wanders to her, after exhausting the usual topics like training, the knights, his family, and food. 

  
He briefly looks down at his pants, recalling the way Bernadetta's eyes flicked down to his crotch when he was on top of her. The idea makes him nervous, and excited, at the same time. 

  
_C'mon, Raph, you were imagining things. Bernie's not like that._

  
He turns to his side, closing his eyes. He remembers the way she looked during their brawling session. When she gets fearless like that, it does something to him. It makes him happy and, honestly, a little breathless. 

  
Rapheal's fingers flex and twitch as he remembers grazing her leg. When she asked him if he was going to touch her leg, he'd realized with a jolt that it was exactly what he wanted to do. Touch her.

  
Her leg, her face, her...

  
Raphael clenches his fist, one move away from giving himself good smack in the face. 

  
_Raph, stop. Stop thinking like this. You can't think about Bernie this way._

* * *

  
Bernadetta hums to herself as the pigment mixture turns the exact shade of gold she needs. 

  
_This is it! It's perfect!_

  
With the color nailed down, she makes quick work of her portrait. She adds finishing touches to his bright eyes, and even adds more color to his lips. She sighs, pleased, when it's done. It's taken her a long time to complete, but she's proud of her work. It looks just like him. She'd never show this to him, of course. If anyone saw this painting, she'd crawl into a hole in the ground and never come back out.

  
But for her eyes alone, it's wonderful. She starts to put away her painting supplies, letting the canvas dry in the corner. When Bernadetta is done cleaning up, she props open her sketchbook, intent on choosing a new subject for her next painting.

  
An image of Raphael straddling her on the brawling mat comes unbidden to her mind. She jumps as a tremor goes through her body. Her heart starts to drum in her chest, and her palms sweat. She forces her eyes back to the sketchbook, where's she jotted down some ideas already, but her eyes are completely unseeing, still fixated on the image of Raphael leaning over her. He's so broad and strong; she could have run her hands--

  
She feels like a total pervert suddenly. 

  
She presses the sketchbook to her face, her lips pressed together in a tight, thin line. 

  
_What's happening to me? Why am I so warm and shaky? Am I dying? Do people die when they think about other people? I wish Dorothea were here. She'd know what was wrong with me._

  
Bernadetta exhales, gently setting the sketchbook down on her drawing desk. There's a smudge on it. She rubs her forehead and sure enough a splotch of ink comes off on her hand. She opens a drawer in the desk, and pull out a pile of missives that she's painstakingly bound with a ribbon. It's a bundle of Dorothea's letters to her. She hasn't read the latest one yet, because she's been too caught up with paperwork and practicing her speaking skills. But she really needs to hear from her best friend right now. Maybe it'll calm her down.

  
_Bern,_

  
_I suppose I should start with my good news first? I imagine you'll hardly believe me, and I hardly believe myself as I write these words. My dearest, I'm engaged._

  
_Of course you know I've always been going on about finding a husband to secure my future, but I can scarely believe it's happening now. I thought I'd eventually settle for some rich, old man with a title, but this, it's much more than that. I'm so happy right now my fingers are trembling as I write this to you._

  
_Oh, I suppose you never did guess who's been courting me all this time. Do you remember Ferdie? Well, he took me to the place we first met, that fountain I mentioned to you. After all this time, I was surprised to find it still standing. And he proposed, just like that. What a strange, wonderful man._

  
_I was taken aback of course. I thought maybe we've just been flirting, and that it would amount to nothing serious in the end, like they all do. When you fall in love with someone, you just know. He told me that when he proposed; isn't that so terribly cheesy of him?_

  
_I can't wait to tell you more, but I'd love to do it in person. Please, won't you come consider coming to Enbarr to visit me? You don't even have to attend the opera. I know how you despise crowds. We can take a walk, just the two of us._

  
_When you visit, please bring that suitor of yours. The one you like so much._

  
_With love,_

  
_Dorothea_

  
Bernadetta rereads the letter several times, her eyes as wide as saucers. 

  
_Ferdinand? She's...marrying Ferdinand? I thought she hated him... I guess feelings can change rapidly, huh?_

  
Bernadetta picks up a writing implement, her thoughts jumbled as she tries to send a proper response back. Congratulations are in order. Bernadetta couldn't be happier for her best friend, but as she puts the tip to paper, Dorothea's words ring loudly in her head. She can hear them as clearly as though Dorothea were right beside her, recounting the tale in that melodious voice of hers.

  
_'The one you like so much'? Who does she think that is? Is it...Raphael?_

  
Bernadetta almost spills the ink pot all over her desk, righting it not a moment too soon. Bernadetta's heart begins to race even faster. She clutches a hand to her chest, wishing it would slow its hammering.

  
_Do I...like Raphael? Is that what this is?_

  
She makes the mistake of looking at her finished portrait. The one with Raphael's beautiful face on it. Bernadetta's hands go limp on the table.

  
_'When you fall in love with someone, you just know.'_

* * *

  
When Bernadetta's next suitor arrives, Raphael doesn't think much of it. She's had an endless parade of suitors to entertain since she took over House Varley. They never seem to come back a second time, although he's pretty sure it's their fault and not Bernadetta's. 

  
_I mean, if I were courting Bernie, I'd--what, no, no...never mind that._

  
They all bring her something they think is unique, but at this point, he's seen it all. The guards that inspect what comes into the grounds always report back to him, and more often than not, it's flowers, chocolates, dresses, and jewelry. Raphael personally wouldn't have chosen any of of those things. He just knows what she likes. In fact, he's so sure of what she likes that he even got her something from a little merchant stall the during his last mission into town. 

  
The current suitor appears to have brought along a multi-tiered cake this time. It's arranged with fresh roses, and there's elegant red patterns all along the frosting. The cake itself is five tiers, which is rather silly, bringing something this ostentatious to a simple dinner, but Raphael approves for it to go in since it's nothing threatening.

  
He takes up his usual post outside the dining area, occasionally glancing over his shoulder at Bernadetta. She's dressed in another gown, something silvery, trimmed in black lace, that complements her eyes. Her dark hair is pulled up, showing off the pale column of her neck and the heart-shaped necklace resting on her chest. He finds it harder and harder to keep his eyes off her lately, no matter what she's wearing or what she's doing.

  
He's distracted, and even the knights are starting to take notice. 

  
He glances over and catches Bernadetta giggling into her hand. He's not sure what she's laughing about, but suddenly, she catches his eye through the window and smiles at him. The smile is so pretty that he feels like he's just been punched in the gut. He manages a weak smile back but turns immediately to focus on his work.

  
The dinner lasts longer than usual, which is odd. Raphael's used to the suitors showing up for dinner and then, maybe two or three hours later, leaving, never to return. It's not that he's tired; he's used to years of guard duty from his time at the Academy and during the war. But it's a lot later than usual. The night is pitch-black, and the air feels cool to the touch. Finally, after what feels like ages, the suitor takes their leave. They seem to be in good spirits, and it's such a far-cry from the usual mood of other leaving suitors that Raphael feels a twinge of suspicion.

  
The gates close behind them, and his knights do a sweep of the grounds to ensure no interlopers have remained behind. Raphael retires to his room, and his stomach does a jump when he sees the gift he's gotten Bernadetta on his nightstand. He grabs it and hurries back to the manor, hoping to catch her before she retires.

  
They nearly crash into each other crossing one of the side gardens. Bernadetta cries out before they go barreling into each other. She leaps nimbly to the side, the box in her hands going over her head to prevent him from colliding with it. 

  
"Whoa! Bernie, I didn't expect to see you out here. I thought you'd be inside..." He trails off when he realizes she's wearing the dress from her dinner. It glimmers in the moonlight, giving her form a rare halo effect. The necklace is nestled snugly atop her breasts and it takes some effort for him to drag his eyes away.

  
She splits into a large smile, gingerly bringing the box back down, holding it close to her stomach. "I was inside, but I wanted to give you something."

  
"Oh, wait, before that," he pulls out the gift and gently holds it out to her, "I got you something from town."

  
Bernadetta's jaw drops open, and she brings a hand to her mouth to cover a gasp. She immediately sets down the box on the ground between them and squeezes the hedgehog plush to her chest, rubbing her face against its soft brown fur. "You got this for me?" she whispers, as if she hardly dares believe it. "I love it, Raphael. It's so cute! Thank you so much!" 

  
Raphael grins. "I'm really glad you like it. I saw it it in town and couldn't just pass it by."

  
Bernadetta hides her expression in the hedgehog plush, but he's certain she's smiling behind it. "Thank you," she says again, breathlessly. "Now, I feel kind of silly. I didn't bring you anything nearly that nice."

  
"Aw, c'mon, Bernie. You didn't have to bring me anything."

  
She tucks the plush under her arm and presents him with the box. "It really isn't anything special. I just thought you might want some, since you really love this sort of thing." 

  
When he opens the box, there are several expertly portioned slices of cake inside. It must be the cake from this evening's suitor. "Wow, cake!"

  
She nods enthusiastically. "It's strawberry cake! I thought it was really delicious and I wanted to make sure you got some before the staff inside polished it all off. I remember you mentioned something about not getting to eat a lot of strawberry-flavored foods during the war."

  
He beams at her, a little surprised she remembers something so trivial. He'd mentioned it in passing during one of their picnics back at Garreg Mach. "Thanks, Bernie. This looks amazing!"

  
He starts to turn back but Bernadetta tugs the hem of his shirt. "Um, do you mind if I walk back with you?"

  
"Sure, of course." Raphael cocks his head quizzically at her, but she seems more friendly and cheerful than usual. He wonders if it has to do with her time at dinner.

  
They cut back through the garden. Raphael tries to match Bernadetta's measured pace. She looks up at him a few times, biting her lip. She always seems to avert her gaze as soon as he looks at her. 

  
"You look really gorgeous tonight."

  
Bernadetta freezes in place. "W-what?" She brings and hand to her head, as if to tug at her hair, but realizes it's all pulled away into an up-do and drops it, fingers curling over the satin instead. 

  
Raphael feels uncharacteristically nervous. It almost feels like he's eaten something that might be on the cusp of going bad, but it's too early to tell. His stomach feels wobbly, if that kind of term can even be applied to something like this. 

  
"T-thank you," she mutters. He can't tell if she's blushing because of the cast of moonlight above them, but he definitely think he might be.

  
"Um, Raphael, I have...something to tell you." Bernadetta hides her face into the hedgehog again. "It's important, so I hope you'll hear me out."

  
Raphael suddenly straightens, solemn. "Of course, Bernie."

  
She looks around, to ensure they're alone before she shuffles a little closer to him. She holds the stuffed hedgehog tightly to her chest. If it'd been a real hedgehog, it would have suffocated by now. She takes a deep breath, her eyes pinned to the ground. "So Dorothea is getting married soon."

  
"Oh, wow, tell her congratulations for me!" Raphael exclaims, although he's not sure why this is important. 

  
"She...seems really happy, and I was confused at first, but then I realized it's because she really likes...um, this person. It's Ferdinand, actually."

  
"What? Whoa, I thought she hated him."

  
A little laugh escapes her mouth. "Oh! I thought so too!" 

  
"Well, color me surprised, but I guess if two people like each other, there's nothing that can get in the way, right?"

  
"Right..." Bernadetta says quietly. "Raphael, when I saw her letter," Bernadetta's heart is beating so hard in her chest it feels like it's going to explode, "I realized that I have feelings for someone too."

  
Raphael stares at her like she's sprouted a second head. "What?"

  
"I wanted to tell you because...because we're friends, right?" She looks up at him, her eyes round and full of hope. 

  
He nods, unable to say anything else. He feels like he's been clocked across the head. 

  
_Okay, Bernie likes someone...else. It's not the end of the world. It's not like...I like her, right? It's not like that between us so it's completely fine. I should be happy for her. We're friends and friends confide in each other. Right._

  
There's a strange hollow feeling in his chest. His limbs and extremities feel prickly, like they're all falling asleep at the same time. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought he'd been poisoned.

  
"He's really kind and strong. He makes me feel safe and confident in myself. I don't think I've ever liked anyone so much before!" She looks giddy, the words pouring out of her. She holds the hedgehog even tighter to her. "I wanted to tell you as soon as I knew."

  
Raphael stares down numbly at the cake box in his hands. And it hits him. She must be talking about the suitor she just met with. She's never been in such a talkative and jolly mood before now. He wants to chuck the box into the bushes and never see it again, but he knows it'd be rude and he can't throw away food just like that, no matter how horrible it makes him feel inside.

  
Plus, it'd probably make her really sad.

  
"Um...Raphael?" The happiness on her face disappears, replaced with concern. "Is something wrong?"

  
"N-no," he manages, finding each word difficult to cobble together. "I'm fine. I'm just..."

  
Bernadetta blanches, her shoulders curling in as if she's readying herself for a blow. "Are you upset?"

  
Raphael stares at her, and there's a sudden, awful pang in his chest at her expression. She looks so scared. 

  
But he's terrible at lying.

  
"Oh, no...did I say something wrong?" Bernadetta looks at him helplessly, pleading. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

  
"I'm not upset." His voice sounds strangled, and it's a bald-faced lie if he's ever heard one.

  
Bernadetta bites her lip, suddenly stopping where she is. They're almost to the knights' quarters, and she doesn't move a step closer. "Maybe...you should just forget I said anything. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to burden you with this. I'll be going now." Her voice is small, tiny, like something made of glass.

  
Raphael wants to stop her, but he just finds himself nodding. She disappears from view and Raphael is left standing there alone in the dead of the night, wondering how things can go to shit this quickly.

* * *

  
Bernadetta doesn't remember getting into bed, but once she's in it, she clutches the stuffed hedgehog tightly to her face and sobs into it.

  
Raphael obviously doesn't feel the same way about her and it hurts like taking an arrow to the chest. Some part of her thought that it'd go smoothly, especially after the gifts, and all those sincere compliments. 

  
_I...was so sure. But I've gotten it terribly wrong. I've never seen him look that upset before... He must really hate me now. Why do I have to go and ruin everything all the time? What if we can't even be friends anymore?_

  
While she's crying into the stuffed plushie, Bernadetta hears a knock on her door. 

  
"Bernie, is everything alright?" Alfea's voice is strained with concern.

  
Bernadetta tries to answer, but her crying has left her in gasps and sobs. She sinks back into the pillows, trying to muffle the sound.

  
"Bernie, I'm coming in, okay?" There's a gentle creak of the door and moments later, a weight on the edge of her bed. Alfea holds her quietly, and Bernadetta allows herself to cry into her old nanny's shoulder until the tears run dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it. The final chapter.
> 
> KIDDING. But since there isn't enough Raph/Bern out there, I had to try to squeeze every last genre into this multi-chapter fic, yes, including ANGST.
> 
> One chapter to go. Rating will likely go up; you have been fore-warned.
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated and incredibly motivating. <3


	5. Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heartbroken, Bernadetta burns the midnight oil.
> 
> Raphael realizes something important, and does something about it.

Bernadetta doesn't leave her room for days, and no one in the household dares to bother her with Varley matters. Alfea's sharp look at the first person to try rapping on Bernadetta's bedroom door makes sure of that. 

  
When she finally does emerge, she shuffles to the office in wrapped in a blanket over her evening's nightgown. Most of her servants are rendered mute at the outlandishly undignified look of their countess, but per unspoken house rules, do not voice aloud their concerns. Bernadetta locks herself in her office and toils all day and most of the night doing paperwork. When they come to her about suitors, she colorlessly accepts every invitation. She wasn't picky about them before, but these days, the idea of callers doesn't even get a rise out of her; now she simply seems too worn out to care about them.

  
Raphael hasn't seen hair or hide of Bernadetta in weeks. He shows up to their next spar early, hoping to apologize, but she never shows up. The curtains of her bedroom window are drawn closed. He can't bring himself to throw pebbles at them, like he used to. He never sees her leave the manor anymore. She doesn't appear in the gardens, humming as she trims the hedges. She doesn't appear in the archery range, firing with perfect aim. The junior knights who used to train with her in the archery glade are naturally reabsorbed into their usual training rotation with the rest of the knights. 

  
Raphael's never felt so terrible about himself before. He knows he did something wrong, lying to Bernadetta like that and hurting her feelings. He should have been happy for her, ecstatic even, but he wasn't. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth whenever he remembers their conversation. When it's clear that she's avoiding him, Raphael begins to works himself to the the point of exhaustion every day. The knights seem to notice something is off. They even ask about Bernadetta's sudden isolation, but he never wants to talk about it, so they stop asking.

  
There's this painful throbbing in his chest every moment of every day, and it even keeps him up when he's trying to sleep. He sees suitors mill in and out of the manor frequently, but Bernadetta doesn't ask for him to be posted nearby anymore. That stings, more than it should. After the way things went, he thinks he might deserve it.

  
He misses her. 

  
The thought crushes him with the enormity of its weight. 

  
And then a new one forms, beneath the rubble of the first one. It's that he has feelings for Bernadetta, and they aren't going away anytime soon.

* * *

  
Raphael dutifully patrols the manor as the lights in the estate flicker out, leaving most of the house in pitch blackness. The only lights that remain this late are in the office chambers. They stay on through the night sometimes. He knows it must mean Bernadetta is forgoing sleep to get through the paperwork by herself.

  
Tonight, the light in the office chambers go out, earlier than expected. He glances up, hoping to see something. Her shadow, even. But there's nothing, so he keeps walking the perimeter. When he reaches the other side of the manor, a light appears through the art room window. He jerks his head up, squinting through the dark cloak of night to see if he catch a glimpse of her silhouette. She's the only one that ever goes into that room. 

  
He stares up there for a long time. 

  
Raphael's feet take him to the manor entrance. He realizes too late he doesn't know what he's doing. He wants to apologize, of course, but it's the dead of night. No one in the house except for her is even awake anymore, and certainly no one is going to let him in. He stands there for a while, casting a glance over at the lit window. It calms him to know Bernadetta's still there, even if they're far away from each other. After what feels like ages, with the cold bite of the wind chilling his uncovered face and hands, he turns on his heel to leave. 

  
Suddenly, the door swings open and Alfea, in a night cap, raises an eyebrow at him. "Are you going to stand out there all night?" There's no bite to her tone, only the drawl of someone just recently pulled from slumber.

  
Raphael straightens, not sure what to do. "I'm sorry to disturb you."

  
"Is this about the patrols?"

  
Raphael shakes his head. "No, everything is fine."

  
Alfea stares at him a beat longer, before the door starts to swing shut.

  
"Wait," Raphael starts, stumbling over his words, "is Bernie still awake? I was hoping to speak to her, if that's possible."

  
Alfea gives him a long, hard look. "It's quite late for the countess to be seeing anyone. What is this about?"

  
"I need to...apologize for something I did." Alfea doesn't move, or seem to acknowledge the reticence in his voice. "It's important," he insists, hoping his sincerity is enough to persuade her.

  
Alfea eyes him up and down wordlessly. She finally opens the door, gesturing him to come inside. She points up the stairs to the art room. It's a familiar path, one that he hasn't taken in a long time. 

  
"Please, make it quick. Bernie has not been in good health lately."

  
A pit forms in his stomach at the words. "She's not well?"

  
Alfea sighs, exhaustion apparent in the set of her mouth and eyes. "She's not herself lately. I'm not sure what happened, but she won't speak to anyone." She gives him a wan smile. "I recall that Bernie's quite fond of you, so I hope you can speak to her and see what's troubling her."

  
Raphael swallows the lump in his throat. If she used to be fond of him, she certainly isn't anymore. There's a small pang in his chest at the realization. Alfea pulls a shawl closer around her shoulders, stifling a yawn. "I trust you know how to see yourself out when you're done speaking with her." She gestures again to the stairs and shuffles back to the servants' sleeping quarters. When Alfea disappears behind the door, Raphael stands alone in the lobby of the manor, nervously glancing up the stairs. Finally, he picks up his feet to ascend the stairwell.

  
When Raphael reaches the art room door, it's closed. A thin light spills out through the crack at the bottom of the door. It's so quiet Raphael can hear himself breathing. He brings his knuckles to the wood, hesitating. He could go back and leave her alone. She'd be none the wiser. But he forces himself to knock. 

  
"Alfie?" Bernadetta's drowsy voice carries through the door. He hasn't heard her voice in weeks, and it fills him with this indescribable feeling. Raphael leans his head against the door, feeling like a kicked puppy. "Alfie? Hello?"

  
There's a rustle of fabric and he hears her soft slippers padding across the floor of the room. He jumps back from the door, frozen. He's suddenly not so sure he should be here. He's not exactly sure of what he's going to say. Only, he badly wants to see her again.

  
The door creaks open, and bleary gray eyes peek out. They blink rapidly when they see him standing there. Her eyebrows crease, a lopsided frown on her face, as if she can't decipher what she's seeing yet. "Raphael?"

  
He starts when he hears his name. "Y-yeah, it's me."

  
Bernadetta's eyes widen, suddenly fearful. "W-what are you doing here?" Her eyes slide to either side of him, as if looking for Alfea. "Is something wrong with...um, the grounds?"

  
"I'm sorry, Bernie," he blurts before he can explain anything. 

  
She looks taken aback, but doesn't open the door further. Her features settle into a look of confusion and dread. "Is something wrong?"

  
"Can I come in?" he asks, even though he can tell it's the last thing she wants him to do.

  
Her eyes look panicked. He hasn't seen her this frightened of him in ages, and it stings him deeply. "I'm not...decent," she mutters by way of explanation. Through the crack in the door, he can see she's wearing a thick, opaque nightgown and a dark shawl around her shoulders. The nightgown goes to the floor. He can't even see her toes. 

  
"I can close my eyes if that makes you feel better," he suggests gently. 

  
Bernadetta's eyes flutter shut. She's frowning. He's prepared for her to say no, but she opens the door wider. "Okay, come in." Her voice is wispy, drained of its usual lilt. He closes the door quietly behind him.

  
She tightens the shawl around herself and curls up in the chair by the desk. There's a handwritten letter open on the desk, and it looks like she's penning a response. The stuffed hedgehog is sitting beside her. She folds up the letter and slides it back into the drawer. "I was writing back my uncle," she tells him. 

  
"Sorry to bother you so late, Bernie. I just needed to get something off my chest."

  
Bernadetta curls her arms around her knees, pulling them in closer to her chest. Her toes peek out underneath the nightgown. They're dainty, pale and small. "Is this about...before?" She sounds as dejected as she looks.

  
"Yes."

  
Bernadetta flinches, a knot appearing on her forehead. "I'd rather not discuss...that anymore. S-sorry." Her eyes begin to water dangerously, and Raphael realizes in a moment of panic that he's about to make her cry. He takes a step forward, but Bernadetta flinches and he stops, hands fisting at his sides.

  
"Should I go?" he asks.

  
Bernadetta solemnly shakes her head, no. She doesn't say anything else.

  
Raphael decides to just put it all out there. "I'm sorry, Bernie. Really, I am. I made a mistake. I don't have any excuses for my behavior last time we spoke, but I'd like to own up to it now. It was brave of you to confide in me. I was...surprised. I think, even jealous. I'm really glad you like someone. I'm happy for you. I want you to know that. I know this isn't going to exactly cut it, but I'd like to make it up to you. Can we...try to be friends again?"

  
"Did you say...jealous?" she whispers quietly, almost too quiet to hear.

  
Raphael shifts nervously on his feet, scratching the back of his head. He's never wanted to try this hard at anything, not even training, but he really wants to try to make things with Bernadetta better. "Yeah, I guess...I'm kind of an idiot. I didn't realize it until a little while ago, but I have feelings for you. So when you told me about that suitor you like, I got jealous and froze up. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have acted like that."

  
Bernadetta visibly freezes in her chair, staring at him mutely with her eyes wide like she just witnessed someone streak across the room naked. "What suitor?"

  
Raphael looks back her, feeling his cheeks redden. He hates to even mention the man, but it's who she likes so he forces himself to say it. "Um, the man who brought the cake. The one you gave me?" 

  
Bernadetta's eyes start to search the floor, as if looking for answers written there. "I don't understand."

  
"Your...crush?" Raphael struggles to bring up this topic, but he needs to get it over with so he can get to mending their relationship. "The man that you like. He was the suitor that came to see you that evening. You seemed to have a really good time with him at your dinner, and well, you told me about your feelings then too. Was I wrong?"

  
Bernadetta's lips part in shock. "N-no, it's not like that! I didn't mean him at all. He just brought me a nice cake, and I wanted to share it with you." She sucks in a breath. "You thought I liked _him_?"

  
Raphael feels both a rush of stupidity and relief flood through his veins. 

  
_I made a big deal about that cake and it wasn't even him. Wow, Raph._

  
"It wasn't him?" he musters weakly.

  
Bernadetta's cheeks turn pink. "N-no, I wasn't talking about him. I thought you...hated me after I told you. But you misunderstood me."

  
Raphael hangs his head apologetically. "I'm sorry, Bernie. I was jumping to conclusions. If you don't want to tell me anymore, I understand. I hope we can still be friends. I'll even try to help you, if you like this person so much. How's that?" He looks at her with a sincere smile on his face.

  
Bernadetta looks flustered by his smile, ducking her head into her knees. "Wait, earlier...did you say you have feelings...for me?" Her voice cracks on the last word and she claps a hand softly to her mouth, as if she's embarrassed by her question.

  
Raphael gently tugs at the collar of his tunic. "We don't have to dwell on that part."

  
"Um!" Bernadetta's face turns a bright red, her long hair sliding over her shoulders to hide her expression. "D-did you mean that?"

  
Raphael stands there awkwardly, heart hammering in his chest. He's sweating like he's run a marathon. "Yes, I meant it. I'm sorry, I know that's not really something you want to hear right now, but I'm a really bad liar."

  
She squeaks out something so quietly, he can't even hear it. He gingerly steps forward, leaning his ear in her direction. She doesn't flinch this time; in fact, she doesn't seem to even notice he's coming closer. "Sorry, Bernie. I didn't catch that."

  
Bernadetta's arm shoots out and snatches the stuffed hedgehog off its perch, burying her face in it. "Please, say it again."

  
"Say what?" Raphael's voice rises, panicked. He looks around the room, as if someone else can tell him. "Bernie, what do you want me to say?"

  
Her eyes peer up at him from behind the hedgehog. They're beautiful. He missed looking at them so much it hurts. He approaches her cautiously, as if she'll dash away like a wild animal. "Bernie?"

  
She releases another squeak and hides behind the stuffed hedgehog. Her legs are bouncing restlessly while wrapped in her arms. "T-that you like me."

  
Raphael begins to really sweat, his heart beating wildly in his chest. The sweat trickles down his scalp into the back of his shirt. His heart is louder than anything he's ever listened to. It's so loud he wonders if she can hear it through his rib cage. "You want me to tell you that I like you?" he asks, his voice going hoarse. "Will that make you feel better?"

  
She nods into the stuffed hedgehog, refusing to meet his eyes.

  
_If it'll make her feel better, of course I have to do it! Nothing is too hard if it's for Bernie!_

  
"I really like you, Bernie." Raphael's breath catches in his throat, and more words tumbles out before he can stop them. "I actually think I love you."

  
Bernadetta jerks up, her eyes wide and staring. Raphael scrambles back, clutching his scalp.

  
_Oh, Goddess, Raph. WHAT was that? What did you just say? That was not part of the plan!_

  
He stares at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Raphael clears his throat. "Like I said, I realized it a little too late, huh? I'm sure this isn't what you want to hear right now. Could we maybe talk about something else?"

  
Bernadetta starts to hiccup, and Raphael's so taken aback by the sound that he swoops back down to her, hands hovering awkwardly around her shaking form. "Are you okay?"

  
"Am I d-dreaming?" she asks, her hands against her cheeks. 

  
Raphael looks around, then down at her. "I don't think so, Bernie. Unless we're both dreaming the same thing?"

  
Bernadetta starts to hiccup and laugh simultaneously. She brings her hands to her mouth, fruitlessly trying to cover it up. Raphael looks around for a glass of water, jerking his head back to her when he feels a tug on the hem of his tunic. "I...I think I love you too, Raphael."

  
"WHAT?" he bellows, with such force that Bernadetta almost topples out of her seat. He could wake the dead with his voice at this volume. He helps hold her steady, keeping her in the chair. " _What_ did you say?" 

  
Bernadetta bites her lip, her eyelashes fluttering at him. He could look at that face forever, if only she looks at him like that. "I probably should have led with that. I never liked any of the suitors. I only like you. I only love you, Raphael. I'm sorry I confused you."

  
She looks shy, but happy. The misery is gone from her face, and it's such a relief that his body loses all its held tension. But the words hit him and he openly gapes at her. "I...you...you mean we both..." 

  
Berndetta giggles. "I don't think I've ever seen you like this before."

  
"Can you say that again?" he whispers, kneeling in front of her. She looks away quickly, fighting a burst of red on her cheeks. 

  
"O-only if you say it back." 

  
Raphael nods. "Of course, I will."

  
Bernadetta squeezes the hedgehog to her chest. Her voice comes out muffled into it. "I love you, Raphael."

  
Raphael breaks into the biggest grin of his life. "I love you too, Bernie." 

  
She starts to giggle again. The sound is music to his ears. 

  
"May I hug you?" 

  
Bernadetta doesn't nod. Instead, she leans forward in her chair, trying to enclose him in her small arms. Curled into him like this, he realizes just how small she is. He buries his face in her hair. It's so damn soft, and smells amazing, like something mildly floral. The hedgehog tumbles down from the chair, landing by his knee. Eventually, it gets too uncomfortable to stay in the chair so Bernadetta slides all the way into Raphael's lap. He wraps her in his arms. If he's bothered by sitting on her floor, he doesn't say anything. She nuzzles her face into his shirt, sighing with contentment. He smells like the outdoors.

  
She's so comfortable and warm it makes her even sleepier than she'd been before. 

  
"Bernie, you should get some rest," Raphael says to her. "I'll go--"

  
Bernadetta leans harder into him, her fingers clenched in his shirt. "No, please don't go." 

  
Raphael finds it impossible to refuse her, especially when she's curled up with him like this, but they can't stay on the floor all night. She needs sleep, and he can't stay in the manor with her either.

  
"You're already half-asleep, Bernie. How about I drop you off in bed?" he suggests responsibly.

  
She makes a noise in the back of her throat. "I just want to stay with you." Her mumble is steeped in sleep. 

  
Raphael lifts her up in his arms. She's lighter than a sack of flour. He's not confident in navigating this enormous manor by himself. "Bernie, I'm going to take you to bed, okay? Can you show me the way?"

  
He blows out the candle at the table, and the room is instantly engulfed in darkness. His eyes adjust to the darkness quickly. Still, when he steps into the hallway, he doesn't know which way to go. Bernadetta sleepily points him in one direction. When he gets to the end of the hallway, she points again, but her gestures start to get sloppier, sleepier. He doesn't want to end up lost in this place in the middle of the night. 

  
Raphael walks quickly, and finally, after many darkened hallways and stairwells, they reach what he assumes used to be the guest wing. There a half a dozen open, empty rooms. There's one door at the end of the hall that looks lived in. He gently pushes the door open with his elbow. He recognizes the Guardian Fly Trap on the nightstand. It's a lot perkier than the last time he saw it. There are open sketchbooks on her vanity, and a multitude of stuffed animals arranged in her bed. It's definitely her room. Bernadetta's shawl falls to the floor, but with both arms occupied, he decides to leave it where it is.

  
Raphael gingerly deposits her on the bed, hoping not to jostle her awake. He starts to pull the comforter over her when her fingers catch the hem of his shirt. "Raphael?" she mumbles, her eyelids fluttering.

  
He smiles. "I'm here."

  
Bernadetta returns the smile, her eyes closing. "Okay, good." He starts to extricate her fingers from his shirt, but her grip only tightens. A pout forms on her face. "Stay," she commands him. 

  
Raphael glances back at the open door behind him. "I can't, Bernie--"

  
"Please," she begs him. Raphael feels a shudder go down his spine. He really needs to get of here if she's going to start begging like that. "Just for a little while?" 

  
Raphael feels his resolve crumble. "Okay, for a little while." He silently treads over to the door, closing it shut so no one accidentally stumbles on a strange giant man in the countess' private bedroom. He's not usually one to care about decorum, but even he knows how bad this would look.

  
Raphael sits on the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor and hands crossed in his lap. He gazes straight at the door. He's not exactly sure what to do with himself, but tells himself that once she's fully asleep, he can sneak out. Bernadetta turns in bed, wrapping herself around his lower back. Raphael nearly jumps out of his skin at the press of her breasts against his ass. He turns around, eyes wide. Bernadetta smiles charmingly up at him, and he feels like he could melt right into the mattress. "Are you not going to join me?" she asks him quietly.

  
Raphael flushes. "I don't think that's a good idea."

  
"Why not?" Bernadetta looks confused, almost a little sad. "I've missed you."

  
"I've missed you too!" he admits, trying to keep his voice down. "But I can't stay here--"

  
Bernadetta sits up, the wide collar of her night gown slipping off one shoulder. Raphael tears his eyes away from it and back to her face. She tucks her knees into her chest despondently. "Don't you want to spend time with me?" she says, her voice quavering and brittle.

  
Raphael nods vigorously. "Of course, I do, Bernie."

  
"Why do you want to leave so badly, then?" she mumbles, fidgeting with the end of her night gown. 

  
Raphael swallows the lump in his throat. He'll embarrass himself, and probably her in the process, if he speaks his mind. "It's not that I want to you leave you," he manages, "but we both need to get some sleep, and my room is all the way down in the barracks."

  
"Why don't you just sleep with me?" She pats the space beside her. "I have a big bed. Aren't you tired too?"

  
It's true; her bed is easily three or even four times the size of his. There's space enough for multiple Bernadettas on it. And he's tired, bone-tired, but also the longer he stays up here the more excited he's getting _down there_. He doesn't want her to see him like this. Bernadetta shuffles forward on her knees, wrapping her arms around one of his. It may be a thick night gown, but it's still just a night gown. He can feel everything underneath it against his arm. He claps a hand to his mouth, trying not to let the moan welling up inside him escape.

  
"Are you okay?"

  
Raphael manages a nod. 

  
"Do...you not like it when I touch you?" 

  
"N-no, I love it," he chokes out. "I mean, I--" Bernadetta's arms slowly loosen their hold on him, as if she's retreating. Panicked, he instinctively grabs her hand with his own, holding it down against the blanket. "Wait...I'm nervous."

  
Bernadetta's eyes go wide. They shine in the moonlight. They almost look like moons themselves. "I'm making you nervous?" she asks him hesitantly. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to."

  
Raphael grabs a handful of his own hair, clutching it like a nervous wreck. "I really like you, Bernie. Being this close to you, alone and at night, in your room, it's hard for me."

  
"I really like--love you. I thought that meant we could be...closer than we were before." She drops her gaze to her knees. 

  
Raphael snaps his gaze to her. "Closer, like how?" he asks her hoarsely.

  
Bernadetta bites her lip. "Couldn't we sleep together?"

  
"When you say that," Raphael's voice cracks, like he's a teen in puberty, "you mean just laying down in the same bed, next to each other, and falling asleep together, right?"

  
She doesn't answer him for a long time. He waits with bated breath. "Y-yeah," she utters.

  
Raphael releases a huge puff of air. "Okay, we can do that. Just this once, okay? Because I missed you."

  
Bernadetta brightens, throwing her arms around him, although she can't even grab much of him, with his chest being so broad. "Oh, Raphael, I missed you. I missed you so much." 

  
He shoves the errant thoughts out of his head, wrapping one arm around her to return the embrace. "Let me take off my boots and I'll join you."

  
She squirms into the covers, poking her nose and eyes out of the sheets to make sure he does as he says. Raphael shucks off his boots, leaving them by the door. Not one to risk getting walked in on in such a compromising position, he locks the door while he's at it. He slips into the bed next to her, and as soon as she does, Bernadetta wraps her arms around his, resting her cheek against his shoulder. "Thank you for staying with me."

  
Raphael's temporarily distracted by how luxuriously comfortable her bed is. It's far more lush than any bed he's ever slept in, far superior in both size and function compared to the one he has in the barracks. He feels tired, sleepy, happy. He chances a glance at Bernadetta, and finds she's already looking at him. She sends him a quick smile, which he returns. "Ready to sleep?"

  
Bernadetta nods in response, her eyes slipping closed. Raphael kisses her gently on the forehead, and Bernadetta instantly opens her eyes. "D-did you just kiss me?" 

  
"Sorry! Was I not supposed to?" 

  
"Can you...kiss me again?" she whispers. Raphael obliges, kissing her on the cheek this time. She presses a hand to the spot, her lips parting open in amazement. "Can I kiss you back?"

  
Raphael chuckles. "Yes, I'd really like that."

  
Bernadetta slides up closer to him, but because of their enormous size difference, she ends up half on top of him to get to his face. She quickly pecks him on the lips. Raphael's almost too distracted by the feeling of her chest and hips on his chest to notice. When he doesn't say anything, Bernadetta looks anxious. "Did you not like that? Did I not do a good job?"

  
"What? Oh, sorry, I...of course, I liked it." 

  
She looks like she doesn't believe him so he leans up, cupping her face with his hand, and presses a firm kiss to her lips. Something in Bernadetta changes when he does that. Her eyes darken, and her breath starts to quicken. She kisses him back, this time with an open mouth. Raphael feels her tongue slide against his bottom lip, and he reacts with surprise. Her hands start to travel around his shoulders and chest.

  
"W-wait, Bernie," he stammers, feeling hot and dizzy.

  
"O-oh, do you not like that? I thought..." She licks her lips, looking embarrassed. Her night gown has slipped clean off one of her shoulders, exposing the curve of her breast. 

  
Raphael has to bite back a moan. "It's not that I don't like it. I really, really like it." His voice is husky with desire. "I thought we were going to sleep, but I feel like you want something else."

  
Bernadetta hides her face behind her hands. "I did just want to sleep, but when you kissed me like that...I wanted more." She shakes the front of her night gown, as if to get some air flowing beneath it. When she does it, Raphael gets a glimpse of one naked breast and stares. "I don't know how to explain it. I feel...really hot, and I want to touch you all over."

  
Raphael forces himself to screw his eyes shut. _Goddess, Bernie. If you keep talking like that..._

  
"I don't know if I can even go back to sleep right now," she confesses. "I feel so...thrilled, like I'm ready for a really brisk run."

  
 _Or brisk sex,_ Raphael thinks despite himself. 

  
"S-sex?" blurts Bernadetta. "Oh..."

  
Raphael's eyes flare open. _Did I just say that out loud?_ He stares at her, and she stares at him. It's clear now that he did, in fact, say it out loud. "I didn't mean to say that," Raphael splutters. 

  
"Do you not w-want to?" she stammers back.

  
"Do _you_ want to?" Raphael replies, shocked.

  
"I...think so," she says, her eyes boldly traveling up and down the length of him. "Yes, I think so. I think I've wanted you for a while now. I wasn't sure...if you felt the same way."

  
Raphael feels an ache and throbbing in his pants. It feels like he's having one of those fever dreams, the ones where Bernadetta is stripping down to nothing and showing herself off to him, the ones where he gets to rail her into the bed. He's been having those lately. Bernadetta turns away from him, embarrassed by his lack of response. The pale column of her neck looks inviting in the moonlight.

  
"I do feel the same way, Bernie. But...are you sure?"

  
Bernadetta gasps when he admits it. "You do?" She sounds excited, elated even. "Um," she comes back to him, her hand holding his cheek, "then can we kiss again?" Her hair falls down her shoulder and tickles him where it touches his face. 

  
"Just kiss?" His voice is throaty and tight with want.

  
"M-more than kiss," she murmurs. Raphael pulls her down onto him, and Bernadetta gasps with pleasure when she feels the hard press of his erection through her night gown.

  
She kisses him again, open-mouthed. This time, he kisses her back just as fervently. He keeps his large hands around her waist while hers start to move under his shirt. She's been wanting to feel his muscles for ages. Her fingers graze against his skin, electrifying his every nerve. She can feel every muscle, muscles she didn't even know could exist on a person. Bernadetta makes a sound of annoyance in the back of her throat. "Would you please...take this off for me?"

  
Raphael, desperate to have her mouth back on him, nearly tears the shirt in half pulling it off. He tosses it off the bed, and it makes a soft thud as it hits the bedroom floor. When he's shirtless, Bernadetta leans back, taking him in. Raphael knows what hunger looks like, and it's written all over her face. He's never felt this wanted before, and it's titillating. 

  
"Wow, you're...so gorgeous," she utters, her hands curving down his waist to his hips. Bernadetta's never seen a man more muscular than Raphael, even in the midst of war. His arms and chest are corded in muscle. There isn't a single point of his body that feels soft or pliant under her touch; he's lean with power.

  
"Never had someone say that to me before."

  
Bernadetta fidgets nervously with the end of her clothes. "Um, should...I also take this off? Would you like to see?"

  
Raphael's breath catches in his throat. "Yes."

  
Bernadetta's throat bobs as she swallows. She starts to pull the night gown off herself, feeling hot and jittery under Raphael's watchful gaze. When she has it off, she clutches the bundle to her chest timidly. "I'm...not as muscular as you are, so..."

  
"Bernie, you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen. It doesn't matter if you have muscles or not. And you most definitely have muscles, too." Her muscles are lean and wiry from archery, and it is especially noticeable through the cast of moonlight in the room.

  
Relieved and flattered, Bernadetta lowers the bundle and eventually lets it slip off to the side of the bed, revealing her two perfect breasts to him. Gently, Raphael cups one in each hand. His fingers are rough with calloused skin, and when a finger skims over her nipple, she inhales sharply. "Oh, that feels really good." 

  
Raphael starts to rub his thumbs over both of them, and Bernadetta buckles at the feeling. Through the pulses of pleasure, she can feel Raphael getting bigger and harder beneath her. Bernadetta's panties are soaked by this point, and it's such a strange, somewhat unpleasant feeling to have them still on, that she sits up on her knees, lifting off him, to remove them. 

  
"Let me," Raphael rasps, one hand sliding to her hip. Bernadetta bites her lip, nodding. He slowly pulls them down. His pupils dilate into dark pools, blocking out almost all of his bright gold irises, when they're fully off. She's incredibly wet.

  
"You're really..." His finger touches her clit, and she bucks into his hand. 

  
She gasps his name in shock at the new sensation. Her reaction is such a turn-on that Raphael can't help but stroke it faster. Bernadetta moans, clutching his chest and on the verge of collapsing entirely. She tries to say his name, but her voice is so broken she can't even get past the first syllable. It's intoxicating to watch her come undone. 

  
"I want more," Bernadetta gasps breathlessly, "please, Raphael. More."

  
He can't say no. He slips a finger inside her, gently exploring the inside of her to find a spot she likes. When he does, Bernadetta moans loudly into the quiet of the night, so Raphael focuses there. Bernadetta bites down her lip so hard it nearly draws blood. He strokes her quickly, and she tenses up on top of him. Trembling, she finally releases a silent scream as she climaxes. 

  
Raphael can't help but taste what's on his finger as soon as he extracts it. Bernadetta tastes like flowers. Bernadetta watches him raptly, her lips parted in surprise, as he cleans his finger off. By the time he's done, Bernadetta's chest heaves with labored breathing. She begins to insistently tug at Raphael's waistband. "You want to keep going?" 

  
Bernadetta bites her lip with an unusually coy look on her face. She smiles, a little shyly. "Yes."

* * *

  
A rustle of fabric wakes Bernadetta. She hasn't sleep this well in ages. She snuggles more deeply into the pillows, her hand stretching across the expanse of the bed to look for her bed-mate. Her eyes flare open when she realizes the bed is empty. Outside, it's not quite dawn yet, and most of the room is still dark but starting to brighten. Bernadetta shoots up from the bed, wildly wondering if last night was a dream.

  
Raphael is slipping on his tunic, already half-clothed. 

  
_Oh! Oh, that was all real? We really spent the night together._

  
Bernadetta flushes bright pink watching him dress. His ass looks _so good_ from this angle. It looked even better last night. 

  
"Good morning, Raphael," she says.

  
Raphael spins toward her, one arm in the tunic and one hanging out. "Oh, you're awake, Bernie. Sorry to wake you!" 

  
"Are you...leaving?" she manages apprehensively. 

  
Raphael looks properly chastened. "I was planning to slip out before everyone woke up, actually. I don't want anyone thinking that we--"

  
Bernadetta's shoulders sag. "A-are you ashamed of me?"

  
Raphael immediately abandons his tunic on the floor, rushing over to her. "What? No, of course not! I'd never been ashamed of you, Bernie."

  
"Couldn't you stay?" Bernadetta looks up at him pleadingly. "I'd like to...cuddle you, please."

  
Raphael looks uneasy. "You won't be upset if anyone catches us like this?"

  
Bernadetta shakes her head. "No, why would I be upset? I, um, don't mind people knowing that we're together now. If you don't mind, that is."

  
Raphael envelops her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. "I don't mind." He breaks into a grin, the doubt cleared from his expression. "Let's cuddle."

  
Bernadetta breaks into a wide smile as he comes back into bed with her. She curls up beside him as soon as he settles in. "Um, I had a good time last night," she whispers to him fondly. 

  
She feels more than hears Raphael's rumble of laughter. "Me too, Bernie."

  
A warm feeling bubbles up in her chest. She's wildly happy. "I love you."

  
"I love you, too." He presses a kiss to her cheek.

  
Bernadetta's eyes flutter shut. _This is what Dorothea meant. When you fall in love with someone, you just know._

  
"Oh, I was wondering..." Bernadetta looks up at him. "Would you...want to come to Enbarr with me?"

  
"You're traveling off the grounds?" Raphael looks surprised. 

  
"I...think I'm finally ready to. I'd like to go see Dorothea with you. You'll come, won't you?"

  
"If you want me there, I'll be there," he promises.

  
Bernadetta beams, shuffling up in bed to plant a kiss on his nose. "And...I was thinking of maybe attending the next United Fódlan council meeting. Could you come with me to that too?"

  
"Of course I will."

  
"Can we practice audience speaking today?"

  
Raphael breaks into a wide grin. "You're ready to take on anything, aren't you, Bernie?"

  
Bernadetta laughs, kissing him again. "I am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bernie is a brave woman and Raphael is a SOFT LOVER okay. 
> 
> I took my time with this last chapter, trying to strike the tone and ending just right. I sincerely hope that if you've made it this far that you enjoyed it. I think spending so much time on these characters really made me fall in love with them. I'm happy to report that I do have another multi-chapter Raph/Bern AU fic in mind, but it will likely take a month or two before I'm ready undertake something of this length again. It'll be called "Cupid's Arrow."
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated and incredibly motivational. And for those of you that have been here since the beginning, thank you.


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